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THE BEAUFORTS 




A STORY OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 


BY 


• y 

CORA BERKLEY. 



PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, Catholic Bookseller, 

No. 216 South Third Street. 


' \ 


Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the 
year 1867, by 

PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, 

In the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


8. Douglas Wysth, Agt., STKBajTVPXB. 
No 7 Pear Street, Pbila. 


PREFACE. 


It has been mj lot to see and hear 
much of Infidelity, not only as the great 
sin of the age, but as the peculiar source 
of deep sorrow in households, which 
but for that would be happy. I have 
seen misery following the footsteps of 
children far in the paths of life, because 
of the traitorships of parents to their 
faith; and it was this first gave me 
the idea of writing this little book. 
AVith what success I have embodied 
my thoughts, I leave those to judge who 
so kindly received my first attempts at 
story telling. 


CoKA Berkley. 


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THE BEAUFORTSi 

A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 



ip CHAPTER I. 5«a 


INTRODUCTION. 



^ tains is situated an estate which 

for ages belonged to the Beau- 
forts, and which for wild, pic- 
turesque beauty can scarcely be 
^ ® § rivaled. When Reginald Beau- 

fort came from England with Lord Balti- 
more’s Catholic colony," he had little 
thought of making in the depths of an 
American forest, a home that would be 
called his long after he slept in the grave, 
little thought of leaving descendants who 


1 * 


( 5 ) 


6 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


would tarnish the proud name of Beau- 
fort by apostacy, yet so it happened. 

Begin aid left the colony with some 
Indian hunters who lived westward, and 
remained long enough with them to be- 
come deeply attached to the wild, roving 
life they led. There was fascination for 
him in the dark solemnity of the prime- 
val forest, in the lofty mountains, and the 
rushing streams, and it seemed to him he 
could lead a purer, truer life with the 
simple sons of the soil, than amid the 
busy intrigue of a more civilized race, and 
so, when he stood, one summer evening on 
a broad plateau, which broke the steep 
ascent of one of the mountains, he said to 
himself, “ It is well to be here.” Far 
down below him in the narrow gorge, he 
could see the Indian village, fast growing 
indistinct in the gathering shadows of the 
evening, whilst above him the lofty brow 
of the mountain was crowned with the 
sunset’s light. No monarch was ever 
more regally decked. The beauty of the 
place sank deep into his heart. There 
was no lordly mansion, as in the old En- 
glish domain which had been taken from 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 7 

him because he preferred his faith to all 
worldly advantages, no carefully kept 
lawn or flower garden, but with all its 
cultivation his old home was not more 
beautiful than the lonely gorge, with its 
dense woods and the narrow, rapid stream 
which, heard but scarce seen, rushed down 
from some neighboring height and divided 
the valley into two nearly equal portions. 

Reginald was a prompt, resolute man, 
and it did not take him long to decide 
upon remaining with the Indian tribe who 
had treated him so kindly. Those rude, 
uncivilized men loved him ^vell. The 
frank trust with which he had come 
among them completely won them, and 
there was something in the look and man- 
ner of their pale-faced brother which awed 
and impressed them with a sense of his 
superiority. There was but one thing that 
gave Reginald the least doubt as to the 
propriety of his resolution. He was a fer- 
vent Catholic as his ancestors for many 
long ages had been, and he felt it would 
not be easy to live without the sacraments. 
But there was another consideration which 
outweighed even that. Perhaps he might 


8 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


be the instrument of leading the whole 
tribe to the true faith. He knew his in- 
fluence and doubted not that some souls 
at least might be saved by his teaching 
and example, and the thought gave him 
something of a martyr’s courage in braving 
dangers and overcoming obstacles. 

He was not mistaken. But a short 
time elapsed before one of the most influ- 
ential chiefs became a convert. It was 
impossible for him to receive baptism at 
the time, but he had the desire, and his 
example led many others to wish for it 
also. Ar^ now Keginald resolved to 
return to a white settlement in search of a 
priest. It was not an easy matter to find 
one, for the few who had come over with 
che colonists had more than they could 
accomplish in attending to the wants of 
their own flocks, but the noble Beaufort 
never flagged in his search, and at last a 
French missionary arrived in an emigrant 
ship, who eagerly offered himself. The 
two went forth from among their kindred, 
never to meet them in this world, but it 
mattered little to them, though, perhaps 
they thought of such a possibility as they 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 9 


journeyed westward tlirougli the forest. 
They had a noble task to perform, and 
shrank not from the sacrifices its fulfilment 
demanded. 

As the years passed by, slowly but 
surely, the faith gained ground in the 
hearts of the savages. They still fought 
with their foes, still brought home their 
captives, but by degrees their natural 
ferocity was tamed, far fewer cruelties 
were practiced among them, superstition 
slowly and reluctantly retired before the 
light of faith, and Eeginald had the conso- 
lation of seeing a great number of souls 
making rapid progress towards perfection, 
who, but for his untiring zeal, might never 
have entered its paths. He had married 
an Indian girl, and at his death, left an 
only son, some twenty years of age. The 
younger Eeginald, with all his father’s 
determined spirit, worked zealously in the 
same cause, and the simple Indians grew 
far more noble than in the days of their 
warrior renown. He also married in the 
tribe, and as time passed by, sons and 
daughters grew up around him, with the 
classic features and unyielding will of the 


10 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


Beauforts, and the dark complexion and 
poetic nature of their Indian mother. 
When his days had been accomplished, 
Eeginald died and was buried in a beauti- 
ful spot, far up the rocky gorge, which his 
father had chosen for the last resting place 
of those of his race who should remain in 
their western home. In the course of 
time his family scattered about ; one 
daughter married and went with her hus- 
band to England ; another became a reli- 
gious, and was loved by the colonists for 
her sweet, unassuming piety and gentle- 
ness. The eldest son, in the “ livery of 
Christ,” went forth among fiercer tribes 
than his own, and found a martyr’s crown, 
and but one remained to inherit the moun- 
tain pass, Austin, the youngest of the 
family. He did not remain long; his 
sister in England was childless, and begged 
him to leave the solitude and live with 
her. He went, but returned after a few 
years absence, bringing with him a young 
English bride. They were very happy 
together, and often the fair Amy was 
heard to say her new home was far more 
lovely to her than the stately dwell- 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 11 


ings of the mother land. Both had an 
intense love of the beautiful, and under 
their rule (for the Beauforts were little less 
than sovereigns in the tribe), both their 
own grounds and the village beyond were 
improved and beautified, so that when 
their only child, Hugh, came into posses- 
sion of it, there was not in all the domin- 
ions a finer estate. 

A handsome dwelling had been erected 
in a grove at the base of one of the two 
high mountains, which stood like bastions 
to protect the narrow vale between. Thence 
diverged pleasant paths all through the 
valley, now skirting the base of the lofty 
mountains, now lost in the gloom of the 
forest, or opening into vistas of the swell- 
ing land far west. A rustic bridge spanned 
the little stream, and in the outskirts of 
the village, which by this time was more 
than half composed of white settlers, stood 
a cross-crowned church. There was no 
priest stationed there then, for the faith 
had spread so rapidly, and there were so 
few ecclesiastics, that it was impossible for 
every mission to possess one. 

But a good father came often from a 


12 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


neigliboring settlement, and often the 
sweet hymns of praise stole out and were 
borne on the wings of the wind to the 
listening forest groves. In the latter years 
of their lives, Austin and Amy were in- 
expressibly pained at the change which 
seemed to be slowly coming over the 
place. 

Many of the white settlers came among 
them with pure motives ; many had for- 
saken old homes for the interest of their 
souls, that they might practice their faith 
unmolested by cruelty, but, as in all new 
countries, many also came, but for the 
sake of worldly advantages. Adventurers 
anxious to make fortunes, and willing to 
do any thing to gain their object, defrauded 
and ill-treated the natives, who, from their 
intercourse with theBeauforts, had learned 
to place a trust in the whites, which few 
of them deserved, and so it happened that 
most of the Indians were robbed of their 
lands, and forced to go westward in search 
of hunting-grounds. Austin did what he 
could to keep together the fast dwindling 
tribe, but he did not live long enough to 
accomplish all that he desired. One of 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 13 

Ills last injunctions to his son, was : “ take 
care of our poor red brethren, Hugh, re- 
member how they treated our ancestor, 
Eeginald Beaufort, and do not let them 
suffer.” 

But Hugh had little thought of devoting 
himself to any such labor, and but for the 
restrainiijg influence of his mother would 
have gratified his own desires. She soon 
followed her husband, and then he felt 
free. He longed to see the great, busy 
world of which he had but a glimpse in 
his quiet home, longed for excitement and 
pleasure and learning, and something of 
ambition stirred the young heart, as dreams 
of fame visited him in his hours of revery. 
Had he not been too young, the wild en- 
thusiasm of his nature would probably 
have found vent in the Revolutionary 
struggle between the mother country and 
the colonies. Austin, himself, fought on 
the side of the oppressed, and all his sym- 
pathies were with them, but his boy he 
thought too young and inexperienced, and 
by far too hot headed, to trust in such 
exciting scenes. And so Hugh, much 
against his inclinations, remained clossly 
2 


14 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


housed while a part of the American army 
occupied Woodville. By the time both 
parents died, the colonies were recog- 
nized as independent states, and Hugh to 
his regret, had lost that opportunity of 
making a figure in the world. As soon 
as he became his own master he went to 
France, to study, as he said, for |he priest- 
hood. He had been intended for that by 
both parents from infancy, and perhaps 
when he started he had no settled inten- 
tion of going contrary to their desires, but 
it was not long before the wild vagaries 
of the so-called school of philosophy, then 
reigning in France, captivated him. He 
had just been there long enough to imbibe 
all manner of infidel notions, when the 
fearful revolution swept over the land. 
No one knew what first lured him from 
the path of virtue, or where the first down- 
ward step had been taken, but he soon 
plunged into wild excesses, and finally re- 
nounced even the name of Catholicity, a sin 
which was visited upon his house until his 
last descendant slept in the grave, and the 
broad lands of the Beauforts passed into 
the hands of strangers. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEOHANIES. 15 


CHAPTER II. 

i 

THE BROTHERS. 

FTER many years Hugh returned 
to his American home. Very 
marked changes had been going 
on in it. Woodvillehad grown 
into a flourishing town, the poor 
Indians had been robbed of 
their last possessions about the 
gorge, and driven into the fast- 
nesses of the mountains and the broad, 
fertile valleys beyond. Not a wigwam 
was to be seen when Hugh returned, bring- 
ing with him his wife, and the copper skins 
and rude dress of the few Indians who ven- 
tured into Wood ville were objects of won- 
der and mirth to the children. 

The years he had spent abroad, had 
changed Hugh in exterior as well as in 



16 


THE BEAUF0RT3: 


heart. He went away scarce more than a 
boy, with the fiery enthusiasm of boyhood 
just tempered by the half-conscious dignity 
of manhood, and he retuiined, the polished 
courtly man of the w*orld, his natural im- 
pulsiveness so subdued that it could only 
be guessed by the occasional flash of his 
eye, and the quick, haughty gesture of 
contempt. But these were seldom seen; 
he had learned hypocrisy, the world’s great 
lesson. For a while, after his return, he 
seemed to take pleasure in the society of 
the wealthy settlers in his neighborhood, 
but his manner soon showed a growing 
weariness, and, too proud to press them- 
selves upon him, many who would have 
been friends left him to his own resources. 
For himself, his tastes were sufficient inas- 
nauch as mere human things can suffice 
for happiness, but for his wife the time 
passed gloomily enough. Alone in a strange 
land. No wonder she pined for the home, 
and the loving hearts she had left for his 
sake, no wonder the beauty which had 
helped to lure him from his God, faded 
until it was but a shadow of its former 
brilliancy, Hugh was intensely selfish, 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGE ANIES. 17 

and the love of such a nature cannot be 
deep. He never felt for his wife until it 
was too late to save her life, and a lofty 
monument, and poetic inscription could 
make no atonement for years of neglect. 
Her death did not touch his heart, even 
enough to make him feel anxious about 
her children. He was so wrapt up in his 
own plans and pleasures that they had full 
liberty to do and say what they pleased, 
as long as they did not interfere with him. 
Basil and Cyril Beaufort from childhood 
had evinced the most marked dislike for 
each other. There never had been any 
thing brotherly in their dispositions; as 
children, they had fought over trifles, and 
as youths, each taking all possible advan- 
tage of the other, there was not much pros- 
pect of the breach being healed. Both 
inherited their father’s intellectual cast of 
mind, both loved study, one for its own 
sake, and the other for the influence learn- 
ing would give him in after life; but 
neither had the remotest idea of religion. 
“ That is not fit for men,” Mr. Beaufort 
said, when Cyril once asked him some 
2 * 


18 


THE BEAUFOKTS: 


earnest question, and so both brothers 
eschewed its study. 

But Catherine, their sister, pale, quiet 
little Catherine, who could be startled by 
her brothers’ loud laughter, and frightened 
into tears by their angry clamor, and who 
loved all beautiful things, was wiser far 
than they. There was an old servant in 
the family who took entire charge of the 
child after her mother’s death, and brought 
her up in the pure, true faith, Hugh Beau- 
fort had so ignominiously deserted. But 
he knew nothing of this until the timid, 
neglected child had grown into a woman, 
with all a Beaufort’s firmness hidden under 
a placid exterior, and then no human will 
could destroy the fair, broad edifice of 
faith and virtue she had reared in her 
soul. It was only when Catherine author- 
ized the Catholic music teacher her father 
had given her, to ask for her hand, that- 
Mr. Beaufort discovered she had always 
been a Catholic. Neither his passionate 
storming, nor his cold, cutting words were 
of any avail then. Her love she could 
have renounced, but her faith she would 
not; and sternly and unfeelingly, Hugh 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 19 


bade her marry the man of her choice, and 
then depart from her home, never again 
to darken its doors. Something very like 
a curse rang in her ears as she left the 
altar, but it was one which recoiled on 
the guilty imprecator, instead of falling on 
the head of his innocent child. Mr. Beau- 
fort lived out his appointed years, and 
died as he had lived, cold and passionless, 
hiding whatever fear he might have felt, 
under a stoical appearance. He had lived 
a hypocrite, and he died in fearful hypoc- 
risy, 

It was but a week after their father’s ' 
death that the brothers were together in 
the room which had been his study. The 
windows looked northward over the valley, 
and the steep ascent of the opposite moun- 
tain, and the broad terrace, half-covered 
with pine trees. On this Cyril’s eyes were 
fixed, as he stood tapping the window 
panes. 

“Basil, that terrace would be a fine 
place for a house,” he said ; “I believe I’ll 
get me a wife and build there. With a 
glass I could look into your windows and 
see all your movements. I’ll do it.” 


20 THE BEAUFORTS : 

He had only spoken in jest, but Basil’s 
hot temper was aroused. “I would bar 
the windows with iron shutters before you 
should do that,” he answered, passionately. 
“To-morrow I am twenty-one, and will 
take possession of my half of the estate. 
As eldest, this house is mine ; my father 
so willed it ; but I swear if you build on 
that plateau you will rue it.” 

“Your half of the estate!” exclaimed 
Cyril, with a laugh, “ why, you are a gal- 
lant brother, to be sure! What is to 
become of Kate, if it is divided only in 
halves ? Fie, Basil ! She must have her 
third.” 

“ Give her yours, then,” he answered, sul- 
lenly. “ You know my father’s will com- 
mands us expressly to have nothing what- 
ever to do with her. Let her take the pit- 
tance he has left her. I’ll warrant you 
she’ll never trouble us for more. But 
do not think to lord it over me, Cyril. 
That terrace shall be mine.” 

“ As you please,” Cyril said, carelessly. 
“ If you take that. I’ll go higher up, for look 
down on you I will. It is well to humble 
proud people. Take care. Aim better next 


A TALE OF THE ALLEOHANIES. 21 


time,” he added, with a laugh, as he 
suddenly stooped and passed under his 
brother’s uplifted hand, which, missing its 
mark, descended upon a heavy piece of 
furniture. Basil, white with rage and pain, 
rushed after him, but he escaped to his own 
room and bolted himseif in. Such scenes 
were of daily occurrence. The servants 
were accustomed to hear Basil’s loud, angry 
voice, and Cyril’s tantalizing laugh and 
jest, so one evening when a wild cry rang 
from the study, followed by a death-like 
stillness, they were not alarmed. The silence 
indeed was unusual, but not the uproar. 
A little while afterwards, Basil stole down 
the winding stairway in the back of the 
house, into the fast darkening woods, and 
one of the servants, who saw him pass, 
said that his face was ghastly white, and the 
hand which grasped his rifle was stained 
with blood. That night they found Cyril 
with a fearful gash in his forehead, lying 
in a heavy stupor on the study floor. It was 
weeks before he recovered from its effects, 
and in his feverish ravings his attend- 
ants learned who had dealt the blow. But 
fear sealed their lips and when Basil re- 


22 . 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


turned, he believed his brother alone knew 
of the fearful burst of passion which had 
strengthened his hand. 

One bright, calm evening, in early sum- 
mer, when he had just strength enough to 
enjoy the beauty of the scene, without 
thought enough to let it make much impres- 
sion, Cyril sat at one of the western windows 
watching the broad bands of sunlight 
streaming between the clumps of trees. Ba- 
sil bad been home for several'days but had 
avoided his brother ; this evening, however, 
he sought him, and before Cyril was aware 
of his presence, his hand was upon his 
shoulder. He started up at the touch, 
and would have left the room, but Basil, 
mastering the emotion which was very 
visible in his face, asked more gently than 
usual, “Cyril, I have something to say 
to you; will you listen?” 

Cyril’s taunting spirit, which illness had 
somewhat subdued was again aroused. He 
answered with a low laugh, which always 
stung Basil, “you need not ask if I will — 
you have strength to enforce your desires. 
See what a mark of affection you have 
given me!” He lifted up the bandage 
from his bruised brow, and showed the 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 23 

still purple wound. Basil turned away 
with a frown. 

“ A most brotherly mark, truly,” Cyril 
continued, going to the glass and gazing 
at his thin but fine face. “I am not as 
handsome now, Basil, as you. Come and 
look at the contrast.” Basil grasped the 
back of a chair with both hands, as if fear- 
ing he might be again tempted to raise 
them against his brother, and bit his lips 
to keep back the angry words which rose 
to them, “Basil dear,” Cyril went on, 
“ I am listening — speak ! Is it of my 
castle you wish to talk ? You know I am 
making arrangements to build on the ter- 
race, and before another year I will have 
a domicil of my own, and a wife too ! Was 
it not too bad, Basil, that Ella Wharton 
would not accept you ? She is a pretty little 
creature, and I think I’ll make her Mrs. 
Cyril Beaufort.” 

Basil sprang forward, but hastily checked 
himself. “ Take care, Cyril,” he said, with 
smothered rage, “ you know my temper, 
do not provoke it ! Ella Wharton is 
nothing to me ; I came here to bid you 
good bye, perhaps forever; to act as a 
brother should, for once in my life at least, 


24 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


but you will not suffer it. I leave my 
property in good hands, see that you do not 
meddle with it. Build your castle, foolish 
boy, and live where you chose ; this old, 
ancestral home is mine, and none but my 
descendants shall ever be welcome here. 
Take heed to my words, Cyril Beaufort ! 
Depart as quickly as you can, for this is 
not your home.” 

He went out as quietly and hastily as 
he had entered, and the next day left 
Woodville. No one knew where he went 
but an old servant who loved him in spite 
of his faults. Cyril would dwell no longer 
than he could help beneath his fiery 
brother’s roof, but erected a cottage on his 
own grounds, where he spent the summer 
months, watching the stately dwelling he 
had planned, as it grew day by day under 
the hands of the busy workmen. It was 
built to suit the fancy of its owner, half 
castle, half hall, with lofty battlemented 
towers for wings, and an arched centre 
with gothic windows. When the winter 
came, he and his bride, the Ella Wharton 
whose name so stung his brother, took 
up their abode in one of the towers, the 
only portion of the dwelling then habitable. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 25 

Years passed by, and children gathered 
around Cyril, but only lived to give prom- 
ise of a bright, healthful youth, and then 
died, leaving the mother stricken with 
gfief, and subduing the father’s perverse 
spirit into something of quiet submission. 

One by one sons and daughters were 
laid in their narrow resting places, until 
at last but one remained, Edward, the 
eldest of the band. And before he reached 
the years of manhood, he was an orphan. 
Cyril met with a terrible death, he was 
thrown from his horse down one of the 
precipices of the mountain, and dashed to 
pieces. His wife, already crushed by sor- 
row, did not long survive him. 

Basil had been heard of but once in all 
this time, by any one but the old servant 
he had left at home, and all that was known 
of him was that he had married in Greece, 
and had vowed never to return to his 
native land while Cyril lived. But he did 
not come even after his untimely death, 
and at last the townspeople ceased to won- 
der at and talk of the strange freaks of the 
Beauforts. 


3 


26 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


CHAPTER HI. II 

\S) G/je/0 

THE DREAMER. 





e/o‘^<a9 


-o atherine Keene bad been sitting 
all the afternoon with papers 
innumerable strewed over her 
table and the floor of her little 
room. It was her birth-daj^, 
and she had given herself a half 
holiday ; and putting aside thim- 
ble and thread, and work-basket, had 
drawn from their hiding-places, packets 
of letters, and scraps of writing that were 
treasured for the sake of those whose 
hands had traced them. One by one they 
were unfolded, and the words of tender- 
ness read over and over again with a sad, 
lingering pleasure. Withered, scentless 
flowers vrere there, each with its little 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 27 

history, and knots of ribbon ; and one long 
shining tress of hair, so goldenly bright, it 
seemed as if the sunshine had crept into 
its twinings, and could not find its way 
out. Yet it was scarce brighter than the 
childish face it had fluttered about, long 
years ago, and as Catherine softly caressed 
and smoothed it down, her heart swelled 
with rebellious questionings of Providence, 
passionately refused to bow beneath the 
kindly severity of her heavenly father. 
She could see nothing but a little form in 
its narrow coffin, with hands meekly folded, 
lips still wearing the smiles that had parted 
them in life, and the waving hair giving 
the brow a beautiful hallowed look. 

One by one, she gathered up the scattered 
papers, and replaced them, not a tear dim- 
ming her cold, clear eyes, nor a sigh part- 
ing her white lips, but a strange, rigid 
look settling upon her face, which made 
the plain features almost repulsive. They 
were safe under lock and key, and then 
she turned to the window and looked 
drearily, as if the brightness and beauty 
about her could not charm away the evil 
haunting spirit. She could look down the 


28 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


one street or rather road of the village, over 
the scattered cottages, with their thrifty 
gardens, and the swelling meadow land 
beyond, and the dark mountains frowning 
over all. The sun had disappeared behind 
one lofty peak, leaving a broad streak of 
gold, like a pennant waving from some 
castle turret; and the soft shadows of the 
autumn twilight were stealing over the 
beach wood at its base, and across the 
stream, where the willows dipped their long, 
slender branches. And shadows seemed 
creeping over Catherine’s heart, too — ^not 
like those on nature’s fair hice, making it 
all the lovelier for their purple veiling — 
but dark, and heavy, and gathering closer 
around, until it seemed no ray of light 
could ever penetrate them. There was 
music too, out on the still air, the low 
music of nestling leaves and running 
waters, and the glad laughter of children, 
now coming from afar off, now ringing 
close under her window; and soon the 
clear tones of a horn mingled with them, 
and the measured tramp of horses’ feet — 
and a stage drove up to the public house. 

She saw and heard everything without 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHAHIES. 29 


in the least appreciating the beauty of the 
hour and scene, for her thoughts were busy 
with other things. She had gone back in 
spirit to her old home, and listened to old 
familiar voices, and gazed into loving faces 
until the present was forgotten a while. 

0 that their unforgotten lips, 

Could smile on me once again ; 

O that their voices could lull me now, 

With some sweet and cheering strain. 

The thoughts were half spoken as she 
turned from the window, and hastily taking 
her sun-bonnet, went out into the street. 
There was one spot near the village to 
which Catherine always went to dream, — 
a long narrow gorge, in summer time pro- 
tected from the heat, and in winter shut in 
from the cold winds by the towering bas- 
tion like mountains on either side. Since 
the first settlement of that portion of the 
country, it had been in possession of the 
Beauforts and their descendants, and each 
generation had improved and beautified 
the naturally wild and picturesque grant, 
until there was scarce a lovelier spot to be 
found than this strip of valley, not a half 
mile wide, but extending some distance 
3 -^ 


30 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


westward into the heart of the ridge. At 
the southern side a stately grove of trees 
enclosed the mansion, and thence diverged 
paths into all parts of the pleasant valley, 
now lost in the gloom of some dense wood, 
the growth of ages, now skirting the base 
of the lofty mountains, or opening into 
beautiful vistas of the swelling land far 
west. A rapid stream, which rose in some 
neighboring height, and leaping over rocky 
barriers, found its way into this vale, 
divided it into two nearly equal portions ; 
and about half-way up the steepest of the 
two mountains, which stand like guards 
over the domain, was a broad plateau, on 
which Edward Beaufort’s home was built. 
This eagle perch of his was Catherine’s 
favorite haunt, when she knew the owner 
was not likely to discover her, and there 
she went this evening to sit in the gather- 
ing shadows and dream of other days. 
Edward she knew was off in the mountains, 
sketching, and would not probably be 
home until late; and so, as she climbed 
the rocky path, pausing often to rest, she 
had no fears of meeting any one. The 
giant pine which grew on the very edge 


/ 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGH AX lES. 31 


of a precipice was reached at last, and 
taking her accustomed seat with her head 
resting against its rough trunk, Catherine 
gazed down into the shadowy valley. She 
was soon startled by a wild, ringing laugh, 
and sprang to her feet, apparently to the 
amusement of a young girl who, with arms 
around the trunk of the tree, leaned for- 
ward over the dizzy gulf. 

“ So ! you must have a taste like mine !” 
she said, in a rich musical voice, and with 
slight foreign accent. “ It is very grand 
here, is it not ?” 

“Yes, very,” Catherine answered, with 
a bewildered look at the beautiful flushed 
face and the flashing eyes peering so eagerly 
down into the dark chasm. “ I suppose this 
is Edward Beaufort’s eyrie,” the stranger 
continued, pointing to the building. “ He 
must be a lofty-minded individual. Do 
you know him ?” 

“ Only by sight, I have never spoken to 
him.” 

“ Come 1 don’t be so niggardly of your 
words,” the girl continued, after a moment’s 
pause, fixing her strange brilliant eyes 
upon Catherine’s face; “Can’t you give 


82 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


me any information at all ? I’m his cousin, 
Mabel Beaufort, and I want to know some- 
thing of the gentleman before I see him.” 

“ Mabel Beaufort !” she exclaimed. “I 
did not know there was such a person.” 

“Yes there is! And I’ve got a sister, 
too, the prettiest creature in the world. 
She is called Anastasia. My father was 
Edward’s uncle. Did you never hear of 
Basil and Cyril Beaufort ?” she asked, sud- 
denly seizing Catherine’s hand. 

“Yes — not much,” she answered with 
some hesitation, for the little she knew of 
the Beauforts was not good. “None of 
the family have lived here for many years, 
except your cousin Edward.” 

“ There was no others to live here, save 
we — Anastasia and I — ” she said mourn- 
fully. “ And now we have come, orphans, 
to the home of our father’s.” 

Catherine did not speak, but the tears 
came into her eyes, for she too was an 
orphan. “Zephyr and I will have fine 
Simes here,” Mabel went on, as if a sad 
thought had never troubled her. “ Papa 
gave him to me — my horse I mean ; are 
you. Listening ? He gave him to me when 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 38 

I could scarce walk, and I’ve lived on his 
back almost ever since. But I think Scio 
suited him better than America will. Ah I 
thou art beautiful, my island home.” 

Catherine stood watching her wild face 
with its color deepening as she spoke, and 
thinking if the sister, of whom she spoke, 
was more beautiful than herself, she must 
indeed be transcendant. 

“ Tell me your name,” she said, presently. 

“Mine! Catherine Keene.” 

“Catherine! That sounds English, and 
I hate all English names, my own among 
the rest. I don’t know what possessed 
papa to give it to me. Now my sister’s is 
very beautiful — ^it was my mother’s too — 
and I love to say it, for it brings back 
Greece, with all its poetry and beauty, to 
my thoughts. Anastasia ! Anastasia,” she 
repeated many times, with a soft, half sor- 
rowful tenderness, and then suddenly broke 
into a Greek battle-song, whose ringing 
martial notes might have stirred the hearts 
of a nation. 

She had scarce more than finished when 
Catherine saw Edward Beaufort coming 
up the path, and would have hurried 


34 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


round to another part of the plateau, had 
not Mabel detained her. “ What are you 
running for ? you must go home with me ; 
wait a moment.” 

“ There comes Mr. Beaufort, and ” 

Mabel turned hastily as the tall figure 
^passed in the arched doorway — for Edward 
‘had not noticed the two girls — and gazed 
after him with a scornful curl of her lips, 
and a deeper color on her face. When he 
had disappeared, she said with a stately 
kind of courtesy: “Excuse me, I forgot 
that I was a stranger to you, and might be 
intruding. But if you are going to the 
village, I would like to walk down with 
you.” 

“ Yes, I am going there ; it is getting 
late.” They silently started down the 
path, Catherine not a little puzzled by the 
gloomy, abstracted look which had quite 
changed the beauty of her companion’s 
face. When they came to the rustic bridge 
which Mabel had to cross, to reach home, 
she held out her hand, with a frank smile, 
saying ; “ I would like very much to know 
more of you ; will you not come to see 
Anastasia and I?” 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 85 

A painful flush mounted into Catherine’s 
sallow cheeks, and a proud, almost con- 
temptuous expression came into her eyes. 
“ I don’t know. Perhaps it would not be 
so agreeable to you to know more of me — • 
as a visitor at least — I am only a poor 
seamstress.” 

Before she could say more, Mabel’s white 
bare arms were around her neck, and she 
was saying, with the wild laugh that had 
startled her a while before : “ What is that 
to me ? I want you to come ; you must 
promise.” 

Catherine’s face slightly flushed at the 
peremptory tone of the ^'‘must^^ but there 
was no resisting the winning tenderness 
of Mabel’s look, and after giving the re- 
quired promise, she hurried home with a 
lighter heart than she had known for many 
a day. 




36 


THE BEAUFORTS: 



RELICS. 



/C^)ATHERiNE kept her promise, 


'1 

and went to see the new 
comers, the day after her 
meeting with Mabel. The 
sisters were sitting in the low 
window, looking out over the 
lawn, Mabel talking vehe- 
mently in her native tongue. 
Catherine would not have 
been able to distinguish her, they were so 
marvellously alike. Both had the low 
foreheads and perfectly chiselled features, 
and small, graceful heads characteristic of 
their nation, but it was not this alone 
that constituted their beauty. Catherine 
thought, as she stood for a few moments 
unperceived in the doorway, that she had 
never in her life seen such dazzling com- 




But for that, 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHAISTIES. 37 


plexions, such clear blue eyes, such won- 
derfully bright hair. 

“Where did you come from?” was 
Mabel’s abrupt exclamation in English, as 
she turned and saw Catherine standing in 
the door. “ O ! I rememember now — you 
are Catharine Keene — come in. This is 
my sister, Anastasia.” 

She was welcomed with a very sweet 
smile, that sent her misgivings flying. 
“ Mabel told me she had met you,” Anas- 
tasia said ; “we will be so glad to know 
you, we have no friends here. Can yoii 
tell us anything of our cousin Edward?” 

“Ko, I do not know him. I have never 
spoken to him.” 

“ Never mind asking questions,” Mabel 
exclaimed. “ People here are either very 
discreet, or don’t know anything. I must 
go up to his eyrie, Anastasia, and find out 
what he does with himself. Good-bye; 
I’ll bring him back with me.” 

She went out, singing as she went, but 
came flying back in a moment, with a 
heightened color. “ He is coming now — 
I saw him open the gate,” she exclaimed, 
throwing herself down beside her sister ; 
4 


38 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


and presently they saw the tall, command- 
ing figure, which Catherine knew very 
well, advancing up the walk. The three 
sat silent until he entered, and then Mabel, 
with her usual impetuosity, sprang up with 
outstretched hand. 


“ So you have come at last, Mr. Beau- 
fort ! Is this to be a stately, formal visit ? 
Tell me if it is, for I can put on dignity 

He laughed as she drew herself up, and 
threw back her beautiful head with a 
haughty, imperious air. Ho, if you will 
permit me to do as I wish, there shall be 
no formality on my part, I assure you. I 
give you a proof of it” he added, suddenly 
drawing her toward him by the hand 
which still rested in his, and kissing her 
forehead. ‘‘Do not be angry with me” 
he said as he marked the deep flush that 
rose to her face, and the quick flashing of 
er eyes. “ It is but a cousinly privilege 
I ani taking. I shall claim it of you also ” 
he added, advancing to Anastasia, for there 

was no mistaking Catherine for a Beaufort 

Mabel had quickly recovered her self- 
possession, and laughed merrily as she 
asked : 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANlES. 89 


“Don’t yon want to claim cousinsliip 
with Catherine, too ? Ah, how she blushes 
at the very idea of such a relationship. 
Well! Mr. Edward, suppose you give us 
some account of yourself. Greek girls have 
curiosity as well &s others.” 

“ Mabel, dear,” Anastasia said, “you have 
forgotten the letter ; let Mr. Beaufort have 
it fir^t.” 

“Yes, I had forgotten, Edward; my 
father gave me this in his last ho-ur, and 
bade me give it to your father. But they 
tell me he is dead, t(X>, so I suppose it is 
yours.” She placed the letter in his hand, 
and then quietly watched him while he 
read. Once or twice, his dark eyebrows 
met in a frown, and the thin nostrils 
dilated, as if with repressed passion, but 
as he read the last page, a smile flashed 
over his face, and with a quick glance at 
. Mabel, he said ; “I shall certainly do all 
that he asks. Do you know what it is, 
cousin what shall I call you?” 

“Mabel — I have not read the letter,” 
she answered. evasively. He seemed satis- 
fied, and folding it placed it in his pocket. 

“ I think I shall have to take your por- 


40 THE BEAUFORTS : 

traits in tlie costume you wear — ^it is very 
beautiful and picturesque,” be said, pre- 
sently. 

“Can you?” exclaimed Mabel with a 
delighted look. “Anastasia is perfectly 
lovely in it, is she not ? But there is some- 
thing wanting.” 

“ O Mabel, don’t talk so, never mind 
putting anything else on,” Anastasia said, 
trying to keep her back. But she sprang 
away with a laugh, and soon returned with 
an embroidered cap, such as Greek sailors 
wear, and placed it.«on her sister’s head. 
Beautiful as she was, it certainly was an 
improvement, and, spite of her blushes and 
protestations, it was arranged by Mabel 
and Edward that she should sit for her 
portrait the next day. 

“Well! are you petrified with admira- 
tion?” asked Mabel, after Edward had sat 
silent for many moments, glancing from 
one bright face to the other. 

“ Almost. I am wondering, too, how you 
both came to know English so well.” 

“ Because we could not help it,” she said, 
carelessly : “ papa would talk nothing else 
to us, and so we were forced to learn it. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 41 


Do you remember, Asie, wbat fun we used 
to hasre trying to teach old Alexis to speak 
it ? We would sit on the beach for hours 
teaching him some impertinent speech, and 
when he had learned it passably well, would 
send him to papa to repeat it. Many a rap 
over the head the poor feilow got for his 
obedience to us. Ah ! dear, dear Scio I I 
think I shall be homesick very often.” 

“ I hope not,” said Edward. “ I will try 
to amuse and interest you so much in your 
new home, that you will not think of the 
old one. To begin ; suppose we go over 
the house, and I will tell you all the anec- 
dotes I know about our forefathers.” 

“ Delightful ! Catherine, where are you 
going ?” She had told Anastasia good bye, 
and was trying to make her escape unper- 
ceived. 

“I must go now, Miss Beaufort,” she 
said, still advancing toward the door. 

“ Stop ! You shall not stir a step until 
you call me Mabel.” 

She .grasped her arm and held it until 
she said, “ Grood bye, Mabel, I will come 
again.” And then she went, crying all the 
way, for she had felt, while the cousins 

4 * 


42 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


laughed and chatted, that she had not a 
friend in the world. Even Anastasia’s 
gentleness and Mabel’s warm impulsive- 
ness, had wounded her sensitive nature; 
she could bear nothing now, every careless 
word was like an arrow. 

When she was gone, Mabel, Anastasia, 
and Edward started on an exploring ex- 
pedition. It was only the central rooms 
on the first floor which had been prepared 
for the reception of the sisters, and so the 
rest of the house was in much the same 
condition that Basil had left it, except, 
indeed, that the dust and tarnish of years 
had gathered on all things. Edward led 
them back through the broad entrance hall 
to a dark narrow passage, and the winding 
stair-way, down which their father had 
stolen long years before, stained with his 
brother’s blood. Anastasia clung close to 
the arm on which she leant, but Mabel 
fearlessly sprang forward, with hands out- 
stretched to grope her way, and her eyes 
glistening like stars as they looked back to 
the silent pair behind her. When they 
emerged into the room above, soft as was 
the light coming through the heavily cur- 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 43 

tained windows at the far end, Anastasia 
almost involuntarily shaded her eyes with 
her hand, and when she withdrew it, Mabel 
was standing in the middle of the room, 
gazing jvith wide dilated eyes and quiver- 
ing nostrils, at a portrait on the wall. 

“ That is the face which has haunted me 
for years,” she exclaimed. “ Edward, who 
is this?” 

“ Our grandfather, Hugh Beaufort,” he 
answered, after a glance at the dark proud 
face gazing down upon them in such quiet 
scorn. 

“ Hugh Beaufort!” she repeated, slowly. 
“Yes! I know him. There can be no 
doubt. How very like him you are, Ed- 
ward,” she continued, suddenly facing him. 
He certainly was that. The broad, high 
forehead, and heavy brows, and regular 
features were the same, but they were pro- 
verbial with the Beauforts, and Edward’s 
was not merely a family resemblance to his 
ancestor. It seemed as if the same daring, 
tameless spirit might have animated both, 
and given their lips such scornful stern- 
ness, their eyes such a mocking light. 

“Come!” said Mabel, turning with a 


44 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


look of pain from the picture. “I care 
not to see it again. This was his study, 
was it not ? And here it was that Basil 
and Cyril, his ill fated sons, quarreled. It 
is meet that reparation should be made on 
this spot, most fit that you and I, Anasta- 
sia, should promise to be Edward’s friends 
where oar fathers were such bitter foes.” 

Anastasia’s face was full of astonishment, 
and Edward, wondering, asked, “ Where 
did you learn all this, Mabel ?” 

“ Where I” she echoed, with a wild laugh, 
the troubled, sorrowful look passing away, 
and one of strange excitement taking its 
place. “ I will show you.” In a moment 
she had reached from one of the well-filled 
shelves a large dark book with heavy 
clasps, and opening it, laid it before them. 
“See I it is written in blood.” 

It was only red ink, but Anastasia shud- 
dered as she read, “Legends of the Beau- 
forts.” 

“ 0 Mabel, why do you talk so ? I have 
never seen this before.” 

“ Neither shall you see it again. Close 
it, Edward. If you gaze another moment, 
those eyes of yours will look from every 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 45 

scarlet letter when I read in the book, and 
that must not be. I could bettej* bear 
what I did yesterday, when I sat here 
reading those pages, with Hugh Beau- 
fort’s fearful orbs fixed so movelessly upon 
me. Let us go from here.” 

“ Come, then,” said Edward, “ and I 
will show yon a favorite, haunt of mine. 
As you know the history of our fathers’ 
enmity, I also may speak of it. My father 
•would never suffer me to come here, and 
of course his prohibition but increased my 
desire to ramble through the old house, 
whose very exterior shadows had a charm. 
So one day, grown reckless of conse- 
quences, I came. It was through a low 
bay window in one of the lower rooms I 
entered, and thence passed up the stairs, 
hurrying fearfully by the old musical 
clock which stood at the head, and which 
just then rang out the hour. To my child- 
ish fancy, there was something grand and 
stately in the dimly lit rooms, with the^r 
heavy furniture, and tapestried walls, and 
after that day I spent hours wandering 
from room to room, collecting all the rare 
and beautiful things I found, and hiding 


46 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


them in my own sanctum, as I afterward 
called this place. It is strange, Mabel, 
that I never came across the book you 
have just shown.” 

“ Very !” she said, with a hurried laugh, 
“ Especially as it was never in the house 
until I came. Is this the end of our jour- 
ney?” He had led them up stairways, 
through passages and suites of rooms, until 
now they stood within a sort of triangular 
apartment with windows on two sides, one 
directly facing the rough mountain, and 
the other looking eastward over the ex- 
panding valley. He had told the truth ; 
certainly there never were so many beauti- 
ful things collected in so small a space. 
Every inch of wall was covered with pic- 
tures, bright landscapes, with the glow of 
morning shimmering amid the leaves, or 
the shadows of evening trooping up from 
dells and thickets, and dark sea views, 
with the waves mounting up to the black 
sky, and the faces of despairing men, 
gleaming with fearful vividness amid the 
storm, and portraits too, of their English 
ancestors, in the quaint costumes of olden 
times. In one corner lay a parcel of Indian 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 47 


relics, arrows and feathers, and moccasins, 
and some warrior’s robe of state, with 
its gaudy deckings, which Mabel folded 
around her, and strutted to and fro in, 
looking strange enough with her Greek 
face and head rising above its clumsy 
folds. Old moth-eaten volumes were 
scattered about, and withered flowers in 
gorgeously colored Bohemian glasses, and 
pipes of every description, from the twisted 
serpent-like Turkish one, with its amber 
mouth piece, and the red man’s painted 
calumet, to a clayish-looking afiair with a 
stump of a stem, and a very Celtic face 
carved on the bowl ; all in the most artistic 
confusion.- 

“ 0, the beauty of order !” exclaimed 
Mabel. “This is its very perfection, is it 
not, Asie?” She gathered up her robe, 
that it might not sweep away a costly bau- 
ble lying on the floor. 

“It does not look as if you had been 
here lately, Edward,” said Anastasia; 
“ you have material enough to make a 
dozen sanctums. O, Mabel ! Mabel ! come 
and look at this lovely picture !” She had 
just discovered a small, oval framed por- 


48 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


trait under a pile of books and papers. 
But Mabel did not move, she, too, bad 
found a treasure. It was a wooden cruci- 
fix, with a roughly carved figure extended 
upon it, evidently the work of an unskilled 
hand, and yet almost fearful in its truth- 
ful depicting of agony. Most expressive 
of woe and pain unutterable, were the con- 
tracted brows, the parted lips, the drawn 
sinews. Mabel gazed, heedless of her 
sister’s repeated call, and Edward’s laugh- 
ter at her queer taste, until her own face 
grew tearful in its sympathy ; and when 
at last she went to the two whp were now 
looking at a piece of music they had found, 
the cross was folded close to her heart. 

“Now show me the picture, my sister,” 
she said, in a soft, tender voice, very unlike 
her usually wild, ringing one. 

“O, it was only Aunt Catherine’s por- 
trait,” Anastasia said. “I don’t know 
where I laid it. Come down and try this 
music for us.” 

“ Aunt Catherine ! And who was she ?” 

“An only sister of our fathers’,” Edward 
answered. “ Did you never hear of her ? 
t think she died soon after Basil left 
America. Ah ! here it is.” 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 49 

He placed the picture in her hand. “ It 
is certainly a Beaufort face,” Mabel said, 
presently ; “ but where did the broad fore- 
head get such a calm look, and the lips 
their sweet placidity?” 

“I can’t tell you, I’m sure,” Edward 
answered, with a smile. “It is not heredi- 
tary, I suppose, but a Beaufort might have 
that style of beauty as well as another ; it’s 
all by chance. Don’t think of entering 
upon a philosophical examination of the 
subject,” he added, with a laugh at her 
grave face ; “ but come and itry this music 
for us.” 

They went down to the parlor again, 
and Mabel sat at the piano. A moment’s 
glance at the music, and then her fingers 
struck the full, harmonious chords, and 
her voice, rich and gushing, and startling 
in its pathos, rang out in a “Kyrie Elei- 
son.” 

“ Mabel ; you are a magnificent musi- 
cian !” Edward exclaimed, when she had 
finished. “Did you ever see the music 
before ? ” 

“No, but I have heard it often in pass- 
ing a little church that stood on the sea 
b 


50 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


shore, near our old home, and I have 
dreamed of it at night, and wondered what 
the words and the imploring tones meant. 
My father would never tell me; will not 
you, Edward ? It seems to me, it should 
be sung in the presence of this woeful 
figure, for it sounds like the cry of a 
heavily laden heart,” she added, drawing 
the crucifix from her bosom. 

“ Why, Mabel I don’t become an idola- 
ter I” he said, with a scornful laugh. “ It 
would be a long story to tell the meaning 
of what you ask ; some day I will do it. 
But this day is passed now, and I must go.” 
He pointed to where the sunset’s flaming 
banners were flaunting in the sky, and 
promising to return the next morning, 
went home. That night Mabel walked 
her room with restless feet, striving in vain 
to grasp the broken threads of thought, 
and weave them with the memories of other 
days. Her head throbbed, and her brain 
ached with the restless effort to recall 
words she had heard spoken years before, 
and which seemed to have some connection 
with the grand supplicatory prayer she 
?»ad been unconsciously singing that even- 
ing. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 51 


CHAPTER Y. 

CASSY’S HISTORY. 



9 here was much gossip in 
W oodville when it was known 
that Basil Beaufort’s twin 
daughters had arrived, and 
as soon as Catherine’s visit 
was discovered, she was be- 
sieged with questions. But 
she could tell nothing, except that the 
orphans were exceedingly beautiful, and 
one most fascinating in manner, and that 
their cousin Edward had been to see them. 
It was a slender enough thread upon which 
to weave a romance, but the good people 
of Woodville had Edward and Mabel 
married before the parties themselves had 
seen each other twice. 

A day or two after Catherine’s visit, 


52 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


Mabel came to see ber. The villagers 
were astonished by a vision of a black 
horse, and a black habited rider, coming 
down the road like a flash of lightning, 
stopping but an instant at a corner, to ask 
“ where Catherine Keene lived,” and then 
dashing on to the door pointed out, as if 
on an errand of life or death. “Some 
wedding finery wanted,” said one ; “ Cathe- 
rine is to go up^ to the hall to sew,” said 
another. Catherine herself was a little 
astonished when Mabel, without message 
or even a knock to announce her coming, 
walked into her room. 

“ Well, how do you do, to-day. Miss De- 
mureness ?” she said, dropping into a chair, 
and taking off her riding-cap. “ Are you * 
disposed to talk ? Because I’m in a regular 
talking mood, and I hadn’t a chance 
while Edward was at the hall, so I came 
here to see you.” 

“ I am very glad to see you,” Catherine 
said, but still went on with her sewing. 

“ You don’t look so, then,” Mabel re- 
torted. “ What are you sewing ? Come, 
put up your work, like a good child,” she 
added, in such a coaxing way, that Cathe- 
rine had to smile. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 53 

“ I cannot, indeed. Don’t you remem- 
ber I told you I was a seamstress ? And 
I have promised to finish this work by to- 
morrow.” 

“You have? Give me a needle and 
thread.” And before Catherine could re- 
monstrate, she was turning over her work 
basket in search of a thimble. “ There, 
now, where’s the needle-case ? Ah ! I 
haven’t sewed for a long time, and it will 
be a pleasant variety. Give me something 
to do, quick.” 

“I’m afraid ” 

“ Hush I I can do it as well as you, sim- 
pleton.” Of which Catherine was pre- 
sently convinced, when she saw the deli- 
cate fingers about their work. Mabel was 
graceful in this womanly accomplishment, 
as in all things else. 

“How Catherine, or Kate, or Cassy, 
whichever you chose, tell me something 
about yourself. I like you, and I want to 
knov;' all about you.” 

Catherine’s head went suddenly down 
into the folds of the muslin she was sew- 
ing, and she said, almost with a sob, 
“ Cassy I — My mother always called me 
that.” 


64 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


“And she is dead, is she not?” Mabel 
said, presently, in a gentle way. 

“ Yes, she has been dead a long while. 
And my father is dead, too — and the only 
little sister I ever had.” 

Catherine had much self-control, or 
rather, she was of too sensitive and shrink- 
ing a nature to betray her feelings, but 
there was something about Mabel Beau- 
fort which forced her to betray herself. 
Her wild, impetuous manner, started into 
life, long dormant thoughts, and then the 
quiet sobering down to most womanly 
tenderness was irresistible. In spite of 
herself, Catherine felt she must open her 
heart to the strange girl she had known 
scarce a week, and that bright, cloudless 
evening, while the sun went slowly west- 
ward, and the shadows of the mountains 
grew longer and darker, Catherine told 
her history. The work fell from her hands, 
her plain face lighted up, and as Mabel 
listened and gazed, a thought flashed over 
her, “ How very like my Aunt Catherine’s 
picture she is ! Only not so beautiful.” 

There was not much to tell, and in 
Catherine’s excited manner it was rapidly 
told. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHAN-IES. 55 


She l^ad never known much worldly 
prosperity, but all the brightness that 
loving hearts can throw over a life path, 
had once been hers. That had been years 
before, when she lived in Baltimore, the 
dear old Catholic city, with her father and 
mother, and Lilly, the bright-haired, laugh- 
ter-loving little sister, who was the house- 
hold idol. The first sorrow was her 
father’s death, and before she had recovered 
from the shock, her mother drooped and 
died too. It was enough, indeed, to sadden 
a young heart like hers, which had found 
all its happiness in home associations. She 
was as one blind for a while, knowing not 
and scarce caring, where her lot might 
thenceforth be cast, and only feeling that 
for LUly’s sake she must go to W oodville, 
as her dying mother had bade her. Why, 
she knew not. She had no friends there, 
not even acquaintances, and it appeared 
inexplicable, that the good, kind mother 
should send her orphans to seek a living 
amid strangers. But such was her desire, 
and when the paralyzed tongue refused to 
utter the words, she wrote on a slip of 
paper, “ Go to W oodville, and ” This 


66 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


was all the trembling hand coujd trace ; 
what followed was so blurred and indis- 
tinct it could not be read. But that much 
was plain enough, and Catherine never for 
an instant hesitating to comply with that 
last request, went with her sister, to the 
beautiful inland village. It was desolate 
enough to her for a>while, she could see no 
beauty in the place, the overshadowing 
mountains were like the great griefs that 
had risen up in her way, and the meadow 
lands and strips of forest were not half so 
dear to her as the ever-heaving sea. 

That passed away, as the naturally buoy- 
ant temperament returned, and there was 
some prospect of making a comfortable 
subsistence for herself and Lilly. It was 
to be accomplished by the labor of her 
hands, i» nothing was she likely to be 
successful save the needlework in which 
she excelled, a tiresome way, surely, to 
attain her object, but for her sister’s sake 
she must brave its weariness. And so 
Catherine became the village seamstress. 
Months passed away, and resignation was 
beginning to take the place of passionate, 
unrestrained sorrow, when Lilly died. It 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 67 


was tliis drop which overflowed the cup. 
Catherine shed no more tears after that, 
though before she had spent hours in vain 
weeping over the memories of the past. It 
seemed as if every trace of feeling was 
effaced, so white, and cold, and calm she 
grew after the little cofB.n lid was closed. 
No one could seethe passionate throbbing 
of her heart, or know the sense of terrible 
loneliness that was crushing her; there 
was no one she loved well enough to make 
a confidant of, and so, bitter thoughts 
were nurtured in secret, until they grew 
into blasphemous reproaches to the God 
who had chastised her. Instead of seeking 
consolation from her faith, the only thing 
on earth that could give her any, she 
brooded over her sorrow, until that coldness 
crept over her which led her to the very 
brink of infidelity. Woodville had no 
pastor of its own, it was only visited occa- 
sionally from a distant station, and so 
there was little to arouse Catherine from 
her terrible indifference, save the ulterior 
graces, which were slowly withdrawing 
because of her neglect to correspond to 
them. 


58 


THE BBAUFORTS : 


Catherine was conscious of this herself, 
she felt she was not what she ought to be, 
and yet she did not change. “ It is strange 
indeed, Mabel, that I cannot be good,” she 
said, in conclusion, for all this had been 
told with exceeding simplicity. “ I wish, 
O, I wish I was the Gassy Keene of old 
times.” 

“And that you shall be, my darling,” 
Mabel said, whisking the work off her 
lap, and seizing her hands to lead her a 
madcap dance, “ you shall come and live 
with me, and we’ll have glorious times ; 
you’re just the person I want.” 

Catherine felt the hot blood rushing to 
her face. She could not be a dependant. 
“Well! what’s the matter, now?” Mabel 
asked. 

“ I would rather sew for you, Mabel, 
and live in my own little quarters.” 

“ Now, Gassy, don’t be a fool I Unless 
you think becoming my adopted sister 
would make you one.” 

“But what will Anastasia say?” Gassy 
asked, never for a moment believing 
Mabel in earnest. 

“Say!” she exclaimed. “Why, bless 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 59 

your heart, Asie never in her life objected 
to anything I did, and she will not begin 
at this hour. 0, you need not look as if 
you did not think I meant it.^ I want you, 
Gassy ! you must come, Asie and I have 
lots and scores of money, and as somebody 
says that it is the root of all evil — Who is 
it says so?” she asked, suddenly passing 
her hand over her forehead — “Well, never 
mind. I want to get rid of some of it, and 
you’ve got to take your share of the evil.” 

There was no resisting the arch, laugh- 
ing face, and half-funning, half-imploring 
tone, and before she mounted her horse, 
Mabel had forced her new friend to promise 
to take up her abode at the Hall. 



60 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


W CHAPTEE VI. II 

h&L i I 

^ g G/T)<y3e/o©^?'^^@^>o § (vae/o 
INFIDELITY. 


HE cousins were often together 
now, and Edward, whose pride 
had never suffered him to make 
friends of those whom he con- 
sidered his inferiors, and who 
had therefore led a very soli- 
tary life, began to wonder that 
he had so long endured its soli- 
tude. The hours now spent where Mabel’s 
wonderful voice and Anastasia’s placid 
smile could not reach him, were very 
lonely indeed, he was never happy but 
with the fair sisters. His bleak mountain- 
home grew desolate looking to him as the 
autumn deepened, and he silently com- 
pared its large, solitary rooms, to the par- 
lor of the homestead, where Mabel and 



©( 1(90 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 61 

Anastasia were generally to be found. It 
was always bright, the fire always glow- 
ing in the grate, the richest of fall flowers 
always in the vases, and music almost 
always ringing out in full, harmonious 
chords. Even his books, the faithful 
friends of years, were wearisome now, and 
he turned away from their pages with 
something of the feeling one might turn 
from an object upon which every affection 
of the heart had been lavished, but which 
at last was loved no more. Perhaps it was 
well for him that the great passion of his 
life was waning; perhaps it was well those 
seductive pages were losing their charms 
for him. He had been an infidel all his 
life. In childhood he had been suffered to 
grope in the dark, as his father had been 
before him, and growing up to man’s 
estate without a single principle to guide 
him in his restless quest of knowledge, it 
was scarce to be wondered at that he was 
involved in a labyrinth of theories. And 
so he had led a careless, indolent life, with- 
out ambition enough to make it even a 
brilliant worldly one, enjoying whatever 
pleasures came in his way, and taking all 
6 


62 


THE BEAUFORTS: . 


disagreeable incidents as things that were 
not to be avoided. Certainly not in a 
Christian spirit, but with a kind of philo- 
sophical resignation, which, for all he 
knew to the contrary, was quite as good. 

But from the very first day of their 
acquaintance, Mabel had a kind of instinct- 
ive horror of his atheistical principle, she 
could not bear to hear him talk in his 
light, bantering way, of the unknown here- 
after, and whenever he gravely called in 
question the .existence of God, and tried 
with all the arts of eloquence to convince 
her that the Supreme Being was but a 
myth, a dream of some unenlightened 
mind, she would shrink from him as 
one accursed. Such conversations always 
roused and excited her. They seemed to 
puzzle her, too ; to bring up the ghosts of 
ideas that would tantalize her with their 
apparent reality, and yet elude her grasp. 
With just as little training, and almost as 
much liberty as Edward had ever enjoyed, 
she seemed to possess some knowledge, 
slight however, and inextricably entangled 
with her own wild fancies, of a few of the 
great truths so utterly meaningless to him. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. • 63 

As for Anastasia, she was one of those 
naturally amiable but weak characters, 
who, though keenly alive to all other lov- 
able things, are strangely apathetic in 
in matters of religion. 

Of course, rumors enough were afloat in 
the village, and Catherine, who was a fre- 
quent visitor at the Hall, not yet having 
taken up her abode there, was closely 
questioned as to the probability of a mat- 
rimonial alliance blotting out the memory 
of their fathers’ disagreements. But she 
could tell nothing. Edward was so im- 
partial in his attentions, it was a difficult 
matter to tell which of the two had capti- 
vated his heart. Indeed, he scarce knew 
himself. It seemed at times that Mabel, 
with her wild, fitful spirit, her poetic na- 
ture, and that almost mysterious manner 
which he was sure was the effect of ^ome 
secret emotion, was the favorite. She 
could sway him as she willed by her 
music, hour after hour he would sit listen ■» 
ing to her songs of home — so she always 
called Scio — ^in the soft, musical tongue 
of her native land, or the melancholy im- 
pro visitations she would pour forth. They 


64 


THE BEAUFOKTS: 


were very like the slow rolling in of 
waters upon a beach — those fantasies of 
hers — deep, heavy, full with a depress- 
ingly mournful monotony, and yet power- 
ful, so powerful that Edward never stirred 
until the full tide of melody had ebbed 
away, and Mabel herself, with a ringing 
laugh, or some taunting speech, dissolved 
the spell. But Anastasia had as much influ- 
ence in her own quiet way. He almost 
involuntarily grew gentler in her pres- 
ence, and his proud, stern face softened 
when near that whose exceeding sweet- 
ness was its peculiar charm. She was 
more feminine, too, than Mabel, and clung 
to her sister with a devotion half childish 
in its veneration, and womanly in its 
intensity, which was very beautiful. Ed- 
ward had been from childhood an artist, 
and now he loved nothing better than to 
have Anastasia near him when he painted, 
not to talk to, for that he seldom did, but 
only to look at, and occasionally catch one 
of the flitting smiles which made her face 
so radiant. In the first weeks of their ac- 
quaintance he had taken her portrait — a 
most perfect likeness — and carried it to 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 65 

his eyrie. But Mabel’s face he could not 
paint. It was impossible to do it truth- 
fully ; at every sitting some expression 
that had been perfect the day before, 
seemed as if it had never rested upon those 
finely cut features. It was this which had 
made her so unlike her sister, that both Ed- 
ward and Catherine Keene marvelled that 
they could ever have mistaken one for the 
other, as they had done in the beginning. 

Sometimes Mabel would come to her 
cousin, pale and weary, without a vestige 
of color, or a spark of animation so natu- 
ral to her, and her face most Madonna- 
like in its sorrowful repose ; and at others 
with glowing cheeks, lips parted with 
scornful smiles, her hair dashed off her 
forehead as with a wayward fancy, and 
her eyes intensely brilliant. She would 
fix them upon him with an earnestness 
that made him shrink, their light was 
terrible, those wild dazzling eyes seemed 
to him a maniac’s. He ceased at Idst to 
try. It was not possible to put on can- 
vas those sudden changes of expression, 
that deep gloom, or the wild mirth that so 
quickly succeeded each other. 

6 * 


66 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


“ Mabel, it is useless !” be exclaimed, 
one day after he had tried for an hour to 
catch any one of the many expressions 
that had been flitting over her face, “ I 
cannot do it.” 

She watched him with a most provok- 
ingly careless look, which for a moment 
quite banished every other, as he resolutely 
effaced his work. “ There ! It is all out 
now and I will never try again.” 

“ No I would not were I you,” she said, 
laughing. “ You have Anastasia, and 
that is quite enough, isn’t it ?” 

“ Mabel I How can you” 

“ O, don’t talk to me !” she exclaimed, 
without suffering him to finish, “ I’m tired 
and my head aches. There is Asie in the 
garden, go and talk to her. Go 1” 

He obeyed, and when she was alone, she 
loosened her long beautiful hair, and 
shaking it around her, walked to and fro, 
with knit brows, as if thinking of some- 
thing that troubled her. Once she looked 
from the window, and seeing the two 
standing beneath a tree, Edward fastening 
a cluster of brilliant October blossoms in 
Anastasia’s downbent head, drew back 


A TALE OF TiiE ALLEQHANIES. 67 

with a flush of pain, muttering to herself, 
“I will save her from this doom, even 
though it break my own heart. Better 
mine than hers !” 

After that she was more wayward and 
incomprehensible than ever, at times avoid- 
ing Edward so studiously, that he was 
stung to the quick, or frightening her gen- 
tle sister with her bursts of reckless gaiety. 
Zephyr, her horse, seemed to be the only 
living creature for whom she cared in those 
days. She would be mounted at the first 
streak of dawn in the cold autumn morn- 
ings, ready for a mad ride over hill and 
dale, which often lasted half the day, when 
both rider and horse would return spei^i^i 
with fatigue. Eemonstrance was useless, 
she would not listen, and a wild laugh or a 
wilder burst of song, was the only answer 
she would give, when asked why she was 
so restless. Once, when Edward had been 
talking in his usual scoffing way, making 
a jest of everything holy and true, she 
left him abruptly, and when Anastasia 
followed, and finding her getting ready to 
ride, implored her not to go out that even- 
ing, she exclaimed — 


68 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


“ Asie, I must! I shall go mad if I stay 
here and listen to Edward. Why will he 
always talk of that fearful belief of his, that 
there is no God, no future, nothing to make 
this poor miserable existence worth having ? 
O my sister ! If you could know the ter- 
rible thoughts that haunt me sometimes, 
you would no longer wonder that I cannot 
bear to hear such things. He is uncon- 
sciously taking away Irom me the only 
hope I have, making a vague dreamy un- 
certainty of that which, if really true, must 
give strength enough for any trial — the 
knowledge that a strong unfailing arm sup- 
ports every human being. Asie, I must 
believe it 1 There is surely a God!” 

She had grasped her sister’s hands, and 
was gazing now into her face with an im- 
ploring look. Anastasia could not under- 
stand why this should so excite her, but 
she was ready to acquiesce in anything to 
quiet her “Yes, surely, dear Mabel, there 
is. Come down now and play for me.” 

With a sigh of relief she threw off the 
velvet cap, with its dark heavy plumes, 
and gathering up the long folds of her skirt, 
went down with Anastasia. Passing Ed- 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 69 


ward in silence, she went to the piano and 
began immediately to play. That night 
the spell her music so often cast upon 
others seemed to act upon herself. It 
seemed as if every haunting thought, every 
wild emotion, was swept out on the melan- 
choly surges into a fathomless ocean , of. 
gloom. So it continued for a while, and 
then her natural manner returned, she was 
again the gay, fearless, enthusiastic Mabel 
of the first days of their arrival, visiting in 
the village and at the rich farms surround- 
ing it, fascinating the simple people by the 
graceful freedom so unlike the proverbial 
pride and haughtiness of the Beauforts, and 
making hosts of friends among the little 
folks, by the strange legends she coined 
from her own fertile brain for their amuse- 
ment. Edward was completely puzzled. 
With his proud intellect, his unbending 
will, he could not understand why feeling 
of any kind should make her so changeable 
in her moods, and what feeling it really 
was that made her so, he was quite at a 
loss to discover. Not jealously, he was 
certain, for he had tried her, and she ap- 
peared rather relieved when he devoted 


70 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


himself entirely to Anastasia, and suffered 
her to follow her own freaks with no more 
notice than a contemptuous smile. It was 
only when he called in question the exist- 
ence of Providence, or scoffed at the very 
thought of a hereafter, that her color would 
amount and her eyes flash with the wild 
gleam that gave such a peculiar expression 
to her face, and vain mortal that he was, 
he believed it was his own eloquence that 
so moved her. 



A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 71 


^ CHAPTER YII. % 



THE ADOPTION. 

HENEVER Mabel was provoked 
with her cousin, she flew to 
Catherine Keene, and at such 
times so 'importuned her to 
come to the homestead, that 
Cassj was quite bewildered. 
She could not understand why 
Mabel should be in such need of her. In 
truth it was but a freak of the wayward 
girl’s, and yet one whose gratification in- 
volved great consequences. Catherine still 
lingered, though promising to go “ some- 
time or other,” but Mabel at last would not 
be put off' longer. “It would soon be 
winter,” she said, “and Cassy must be 
comfortably fixed before that came.”* 


72 


THE BEAUFOKTS: 


“But wLy do you want me at all,’^ 
Catherine asked. 

“ I will tell you/’ Mabel answered, im- 
petuously. “ I want some one to help me 
talk to Edward Beaufort. I want some 
one to contradict his assertions, to prove 
them false, as I know them to be.” 

“ There is Anastasia, Mabel, and your- 
self, why cannot you talk to him?” Gassy 
said, almost laughing at the idea of her 
reasoning with the proud Beaufort, of 
whom she had always stood in awe. 

“ I cannot ! O I wish I could !” Mabel 
said, with a hopeless, helplcvss look. “ He 
crushes me with his bitter, cruel words, he 
makes life so dark and dreary, and the 
future such an awful, blank, that I am ap- 
palled. I have no words to answer him. 

0 surely, surely. Gassy, it cannot be true. 

1 do not know, but I cannot believe it.” 
She passed her hands rapidly over her fore- 
head, and swept, back her hair as if its 
weight oppressed her. 

“ But what does he say, Mabel ?” Gassy 
asked, wondering, for she had spoken but 
once to Mr. Beaufort, and knew nothing 
of his belief. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 73 

He says there is no God, no future. I 
don’t know where it come from, but there 

is a thought always in my mind that ” 

She stopped, and again her hands went 
wandering over her forehead — “ There, it 
is gone again ! I cannot grasp it. I think 
some one told me once there was a God. 
But, perhaps, after all, it was but a dream I” 

•‘No! no! dear Mabel, it is no dream, 
but a truth,” Gassy exclaimed. “ You feel 
it, do you not?” 

“Feel it! Yes, sometimes. But, after 
all, of what use is feeling. I wish I had 
none, it is a very useless commodity.” 
Mabel’s eyes were flashing, and the color 
was mounting in her face. “ What have 
you and I to do with it. Gassy ? We both 
want peace, and feeling will never give us 
that. Gome! let us go forth and search 
for that rest eternal, that dreamless sleep 
which no fear or sorrow can ever disturb. 
In the depths of the sea, or far away in the 
forest glades, where the bright leaves will 
be our shrouds, any where, so that we may 
only rest. Gome ! once sleeping, we will 
never more be wakened. There is no 
Judge to face, no retribution, no hope of a 


74 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


better life than this, and whj should we 
hesitate ?” 

She was talking with startling vehe- 
mence. For a moment Catherine’s cheeks 
grew deathly pale, as the wild, tempting 
words brought a vision, flitting, indeed, 
but so distinct, that it long haunted her, 
of that inexhorable Judge, and the flaming 
abyss, and the gates of Paradise closing in 
forever from her all light and bliss and 
love. They were both silent for a long 
while, Mabel leaning from the window 
which she had thrown open, and gazing 
out upon the clear sky, and the many hued 
leaves that were dropping from the trees. 
At last she turned to Catherine again. 

“I sometimes do not know what I am 
doing, Cassy. I think I am mad occa- 
sionally.” 

Catherine was too startled to speak, and 
after a slight pause, Mabel continued. 
“You say you are not good, Cassy — that 
you have slighted grace (whatever that may 
be), but there is something about you that 
tells me you can save me from — I don’t 
know what it is — a strange, nameless 
dread, a fearful uncertainty, which haunts 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 75 


me. Come home with me this very even- 
ing, Gassy I I need you, indeed I do I” 

For a moment a high resolve filled Ca- 
therine’s mind. She would lead Mabel to 
the rest which she so much coveted, she 
would teach her the Faith which had not 
yet deserted her own unworthy soul. But 
it lasted only a moment; a second thought 
brought a frightful sense of her own utter 
incapacity for converting any one. How 
could she, who had so obstinately refused 
to admit grace into her own heart, hope to 
open the way for it into another’s ? And that 
other wild, fitful, incomprehensible Mabel 
Beaufort! Alas! there was little hope. 
She must begin with herself first. And 
some faint undefined resolve to do so flitted 
through her mind. 

“ Will you come, Cassy ?” Mabel asked, 
abruptly, rising to go. 

“Yes. But go on, and Fll come before 
dark. Zephyr would not like to go along 
as gently as I shall walk,” for Mabel had 
ridden into the town, as usual. 

“Zephyr is accustomed to obey me,” 
Mabel answered, laughing. “ Put on your 
bonnet, and just lock your door, and Fll 
come to-morrow and help you pack up.” 


76 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


So they went out together. Mabel threw 
Zephyr’s bridle over her arm, and gaily 
taking Gassy ’s hand, led both along. 

Cool as the evening was, they found 
Edward and Anastasia out among the few 
fall flowers that were blooming in the 
garden. 

“ What on earth are you doing out in 
the evening air ?” Mabel asked. 

“Just amusing ourselves,” Edward said, 
laughing. “ What are you doing ?” 

“ 0 I’m a difierent person from Anas- 
tasia. I can bear fifty times more than she 
can. Come in this instant 1” 

Anastasia laughed. “ Isn’t she a tyrant, 
Catherine?” 

“ I forgot 1” Mabel said, turning round 
suddenly, and seizing Edward’s hand. 
“That is no longer- Miss Keene, Edward, 
but my adopted sister, Catherine Beaufort. 
Shake hands with her.” 

He did so, with a mock gravity which 
brought a painful flush to Catherine’s 
cheeks. Anastasia smilingly greeted her as 
“ Sister Kate,” she was too accustomed to 
Mabel’s freaks, to be astonished. And thus 
it was that the poor, friendless Catherine 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 77 

Keene was established in one of the rich- 
est families in that section of the country. 
It was a strange thing to her to have every 
desire gratified, stranger still to have noth- 
ing to do after years of toil and privation. 
She had ample time now to attend to her 
soul. But alas ! habits of neglect were too 
potent to be easily overcome. And then 
she had her trials, too. Anastasia was 
always meek and gentle and kind to her, 
but Mabel, much as she evidently loved 
her, had too fitful a temper to be always 
so. In Edward’s demeanor, too, there was 
something that vexed her. He was always 
polite, sometimes so very ceremoniously 
polite that C/itherine felt as if he was in- 
dulging in sarcasm at her expense. But 
at such times Mabel always fired up ; she 
•yvas far too generous to suffer such a thing, 
and the end of the matter was generally a 
quarrel between the cousins. After a little 
while it made Catherine exceedingly un- 
comfortable. But there was nothing to do 
but bear it, for Mabel would not hear of 
her return to the village, and Catherine, 
as usual,. yielded to her impetuous will. 


7 * 


78 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


i CHAPTER YIIL ^ 

^ 0 ^' ^ 

A NEW GRACE. 

, T was growing cold. The last 
pale roses in the garden had 
withered on their stalks, the 
brilliant chrisanthemums had 
paled and died, and the many- 
colored leaves which had made 
the mountain forests regally 
magnificent had fallen to the ground. 
Dark and bare the lofty heights stood 
against the cold, grey sky, for it, too, had 
lost its autumnal beauty, and put on the 
dusky veil of winter. 

As the dreariness of nature increased, so 
the gloom which had become habitual 
with Catherine deepened, and as storms 
swept through the mountain-gorge, so 
wild, fitful storms of alternate mirth and 



A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 79 


passion swept over Mabel Beaufort. The 
two were doing each other little good. 
Anastasia was like a sweet glimpse of 
summer in the house, and Edward appa- 
rently weary of Mabel’s capricious moods 
devoted himself to her. They were all in 
the parlor one evening in December, Ed- 
ward and Anastasia, side by side on a 
lounge, looking at a book of prints, Cathe- 
rine on a low stool, with folded hands and 
compressed lips, gazing intently into the 
fire. Unhappiness and pain were written 
on every line of her face, and something 
very like despair in her drooping posture. 
Mabel had been walking the room with 
quick, restless steps, now stopping to turn 
over the leaves of some book, now glancing 
with a strange look at Edward and Anas- 
tasia, and occasionally putting aside the 
heavy curtains, and gazing out into the 
starless night. At last she seated herself 
at the piano, and after a wild melancholy 
prelude broke into the magnificent “Kyrie 
Eleison,” which she had played the first 
evening Edward had visited them. In a 
moment he was at her side. It was gene- 
rally so, no matter how much he seemed 


80 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


engrossed witla Anastasia, one of Mabel’s 
masterly strains made him forget all but 
her. But his interest, deep as it was this 
evening, was not to be spoken of beside 
Catherine Keene’s. As a general things 
Mabel’s music did not move her, it was 
too stormy. Her father had been a musi- 
cian, and played with exquisite feeling, 
and the music she was now accustomed to 
hear was not like the solemn, tender, 
swelling strains that used to captivate her 
youthful ear. But this, evening she was 
startled. Mabel had but played a bar or 
two of the air, when Catherine was at her 
side, her hand resting upon the musician’s 
shoulder, her eyes bent upon the notes, 
her whole frame quivering with emotion. 
Edward Beaufort’s haughty smile, her 
own sensitiveness were forgotten. She 
was metamorphosed.’ 

“ Sing I sing, Mabel !” she said, quickly, 
pointing to the words. And Mabel 
obeyed. Presently, when she could com- 
mand her voice, she joined in a soft, 
almost sobbing second. When they had 
finished, there was a moment of silent as- 
tonishment, and Catherine glided from 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 81 

the room, Mabel soon followed, and found 
her in her own room, kneeling at the bed- 
side, sobbing bitterly. Her own voice 
was unsteady as she asked what was the 
matter, for the words which Catherine 
had sung with such fervent articulation 
had somehow found their way to her heart. 

“ Catherine, dear Cassy, tell me what it 
all means?” she said, trying to remove 
the hands which were pressed so closely 
to the tear-stained face. “ What is that 
mysterious music I have been playing? 
It haunts me like a ghost. Years ago, 
when I was a little child I heard it in a 
chapel by the sea shore, and thenceforth 
there was something of its imploring tone 
in the dashing of the surge, and now I 
can hear it too in the winds that sweep 
through the mountains. Hark ! Do you 
not hear ?” 

She rose up from her bending position, 
beside Catherine, and stood with dilated 
eyes and uplifted hand. “ Listen ! What 
does it say, Catherine?” 

“ Kyrie Eleison ! Christe Eleison !” she 
involuntarily exclaimed as the cold gust 
swept by, rattling the casements and moan- 


82 


THE BEAUFOETS t 


ing in the trees. Mabel repeated the 
words over and over, and then, as if her 
wild spirit was subdued by them, sat 
down quietly to wait until Catherine’s 
passion of tears had spent itself. It was 
long before it did. The sealed fountain 
was at last unclosed-. Many mingled feel- 
ings swayed her as she knelt there, the 
memory of old happy days, recalled by 
these familiar strains, a passing glimpse 
of the sweet peace that had once dwelt in 
her heart, making its present despondency 
and forgetfulness of God, so dark in con- 
trast, that she was fairly startled. The 
music had been as a barbed arrow, sent 
from the hand of mercy, which pierced 
through the ice of indifference, and woke 
up conscience with the keen smart of its 
wound. 

By and by she dried her eyes, and went 
to Mabel’s side. “ Well, Gassy, are you 
ready to talk to me, now ?” she asked, 
tenderly smothing back her disordered 
hair. 

“ Yes. What shall I talk about?” 

“Answer my question. Tell me what 
that music means.” 


A TALE OF THE ALLEOHANIES. 83 

“ It is a part of the Mass, Mabel,” she 
said, her voice growing slightly tremu- 
lous again, “ and the meaning of the words 
is only this : ‘ Lord have mercy on us I 
Christ have mercy on us !’ ” 

“ Only that !” Mabel exclaimed, starting 
up. “ Then there is a God 1 I knew it ! I 
Avas sure of it, although Edward tries to 
make me doubt.” 

“ Never do that, dear Mabel,” Catherine 
said. “ That would indeed lead you to 
misery. I have been very wicked; I have 
madly questioned the providence of that 
good God, but if I had gone on to doubt 
his existence, this hour would never have 
come for me. It is only His mercy that 
has saved me from so fearful a sin.” 

“And what is the Mass?” Mabel again 
questioned, her whole' face glowing, and 
her strange, beautiful eyes flooded with a 
soft light. 

“ The unbloody sacrifice of the Body 
and Blood of Jesus Christ,” Catherine an- 
swered, in the simple words of the Cate- 
chism. 

Mabel’s eyes dilated. “And what is 
that ? O, Catherine, tell me all I Begin 


84 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


and tell me all I Ever since I first put my 
foot in that little Catholic chapel in Scio, 
I have longed to know what the music and 
the decorations, and the strange language 
meant. My father knew it; he used to 
read books written in that tongue, but he 
would never learn me, never answered my 
questions. And when he was dying — 
raving mad, Catherine, he died a maniac 
— he would mutter strange things about 
‘ church,’ and ‘infidelity,’ and then shrink 
out those very imploring words, which 
have puzzled me so much, ‘ Kyrie Elei- 
son.’ Begin at the very beginning.” And 
then, as if startled by a sudden thought, 
she exclaimed, before Catherine could 
speak : “ Surely, my father could not have 
been a Catholic in heart I” 

“ Perhaps he was, Mabel,” she answered, 
gently. “ His ancestors, for many genera- 
tions, were Catholics.” 

Mabel held her breath almost. “Was 
my grandfather, Hugh Beaufort ?” 

“ Yes and no. He was the first of his 
race who deserted his faith,” Catherine 
said, and then she told the wondering 
Mabel all she knew of the family, from his 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 85 

days down to their own, interrupted by 
many passionate exclamations from her 
listener. There was a long silence when 
it was finished, broken only by the sad 
wailing of the wind outside, and the cheer- 
ful crackling of the fire in the deep old- 
fashioned fireplace. Mingled sounds of 
joy and sorrow, each with its own pecu- 
liar music, which was felt by both the 
girls. Mabel seemed going over the whole 
history of her race. But by and by she 
came back to the old subject, and asked 
question after question with such startling 
vehemence and rapidity, that Catherine 
was forced to ask her to be quiet a while, 
and listen. And then, after a moment’s 
reflection, she began that wonderful Drama 
of the Incarnation, which has thrilled so 
many millions of human hearts, inspired 
so many human intellects for more than 
eighteen hundred years. Once fairly into 
the subject, all Catherine’s old Catholic 
enthusiasm waked up, words came un- 
sought, the late hesitating speech flowed 
smoothly as an unimpeded stream, and 
there was no further need of asking 
Mabel’s silence. The wayward girl was 
8 


86 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


spell-bound, speechless with many emo- 
tions, as Catherine told her of that calm, 
cold, starlit night in Bethlehem, when God, 
our God, came down to earth, in the hum- 
ble guise of a helpless babe. Came down 
to that earth which he had made so beau- 
tiful, and peopled with his creatures, and 
could find no place to rest his freezing 
limbs but an old stable, where the very 
beasts he had not blessed with reason and 
understanding to know him, were more 
grateful than man, whom he loved so well. 
And then she went on to tell how he grew 
in beauty and strength, clinging like any 
other human child, to his sweet mother, 
but unlike others, never giving her one 
moment’s pain, except indeed, that keen, 
keen pang of the foreknowledge of his 
awful death. And then, when he had 
grown up to manhood, he went about 
doing good, fulfilling his mission, pouring 
the sweet oil of his gentle tenderness, his 
loving, yearning forgiveness upon many a 
bruised and sorrowing heart, startling the 
worldly Jews with his irreproachable 
sanctity, puzzling their dull brains with 
his deep) calm intellect— all of which were 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 87 

nothing less than the attributes of God. 
And then, how it all ended ! How He 
knelt in the deep gloom of the olive trees, 
and grew faint in his agony, while the red 
drops of blood oozed out from every pore, 
and his human heart sickened so at the 
thought of the terrible hours fast approach- 
ing, that it sent forth its pitious cry, 
“ Father, if it be possible, let this chalice 
pass away, and yet not my will, but thine 
be done.” How He was betrayed by a 
kiss from one of his chosen twelve, how 
they led him, bound like the veriest out- 
cast, amid the yellings, and blasphemy and 
imprecations of a mob, mad for his blood, 
to a mock trial, dragging him from one 
tribunal to another, making a jest of His 
anguish. How they scourged Him, and 
crowned Him with thorns, and clothed 
His lacerated form with a tattered purple 
robe, and bowed the knee before Him as 
their king, and then laughed Him to scorn. 
And how, after that dreadful night, they 
led Him forth, bearing His own cross, to 
Calvary, and there concluded the awful 
tragedy, by crucifying their God. 

‘‘0 hush I hush!” Mabel exclaimed, 


88 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


when Catherine had got thus far; ‘‘I shall 
never sleep again without seeing it all. It 
is too frightful! and yet what love?” 

“ What love indeed 1” Catherine went 
on, her voice hushing down to a whisper 
almost, as if what she was speaking of was 
too sacred to be noised about. “And yet 
it is not all. That Divine Heart was not 
yet satisfied, it had not yet exhausted all 
its loving resources to win back man. It 
was determined to force him to live, if 
one atom of tenderness remained in his 
fallen nature. And so, when He had risen 
again from the dead, when He came forth 
from the grave leading captivity captive, 
and once more blessing His chosen ones 
with the sweet light of His smile and the 
music of His voice, but only for a little 
while, and then ascended into Heaven in 
their sight, wreathed in glory. He did not 
leave them desolate. They saw Him no 
longer with their earthly eyes, the fair 
bright earth was no longer fairer and 
brighter for His visible presence, and yet 
He remained upon it. Hot alone, as the 
lingering memory of happiness-, which 
sheds a soft halo over all things ; not alone 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 89 

by the power and efficacy of His doctrines, 
but really, truly, body and soul and divi- 
nity. Listen, Mabel, if you want to know 
what love means,” and she drew down the 
awe-struck girl, until their faces were close 
together, and her own voice grew still 
more hushed, and her cheeks white with 
intense emotion, for her own words had 
affected her strangely. “ The night before 
He suffered, Mabel, He supped with His 
twelve disciples. He was keeping the 
Jewish Pasch, but it was the last rite of 
the old law. Thenceforth another dispen- 
sation was to reign supreme. And while 
at table, Jesus took bread and blessed and 
broke and gave it to his disciples, saying : 
‘ Take ye and eat, for this is my body,’ and 
in like manner the chalice, saying: ‘Drink 
ye of this, for this is my blood which shall 
be shed for you.’ And then He added: 
‘ Do this in commemoration of me.’ And 
from that hour to this, Mabel, bread and 
wine have been changed into His body 
and blood, and that is what we call the 
Mass. Is it not awfully strange that God 
should love us' so? That He should dwell 
with us always? for in every Catholic 
8 * 


90 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


Church in all the wide, wide world, there 
are some of those consecrated Hosts, and 
in every one of them, in every particle of 
each is Jesus whole and entire.” 

Catherine bowed down as if overwhelmed 
at the very thought, and Mabel was silent 
for many moments. At last she said — • 
“It is very strange, Cassy, that I have 
never been able to remember these things 
before. I knew it all when I was a child. 
Alexis, an old Catholic servant my father 
had, taught me all about his faith, and 
that is why the music I found here brought 
in its strains such haunting, yet eluding 
memories. Years of my life that have 
long been but indistinct visions in memory, 
are to night as plain as if the written pages 
were before me. I think, Cassy, the curse 
of old Hugh Beaufort’s sin is upon us all. 
I am sure that I am sometimes mad.” 

“Why?” Catherine asked, looking up,- 
quickly. 

“ Because,” said Mabel, “such strange, 
wild thoughts torment me sometimes. I 
cannot make out anything clearly ; all that 
I know is, that I am Mabel Beaufort, and 
have a sister Anastasia, and I feel as if some 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGE ANIES. 91 


demon of motive possessed me. I cannot 
rest. I cannot sleep, but must be out 
where the free wind can blow over me. 
And since I have been here, whenever my 
cousin Edward speaks of God, as he does, 
it awakens that demon. I love you. Gassy, 
I have loved you from the first hour of our 
meeting; something like instinct told me 
you would do me good, and behold ! this 
night you have made me sane. God grant 
I may be a lunatic no- more. Good nighty” 
and bending down, she kissed her fore- 
head tenderly, and went out. Presently 
the sweet solemn strains of the Kyrie 
Eleison came floating down the broad hall 
and up the stairway, and Catherine fell 
asleep, with the prayer upon her lips, and 
the music in her ears. 



92 


THE BEAUFORTS; 


^ CHAPTEK IX. 


THE FATE OF THE UNFAITHFUL. 



E have seen that when Basil 
Beaufort left his home, his 
' nature was a wild passionate 
one, which had never been 
placed under the least restraint. 
And as he advanced in years, it 
became even more unmanagea- 
ble. For a long time he wandered rest- 
lessly over Europe, but at last, as if weary 
of constantly changing scenes, settled him- 
self in one of the beautiful islands of the 
Mediterranean. There he married, and 
there his twin daughters were born. Their 
mother died in giving them birth, and 
thenceforth Basil seemed to grow more 
tender, his whole life was devoted to his 
children. They grew day by day in beauty, 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 93 


and Mabel inherited her father’s hardihood 
in strength. Anastasia was always deli- 
cate, always required more care, and per- 
haps it was this which made her the pet. 
Basil scarce ever suffered her to be out of 
his sight, but was constantly thinking of 
and providing for her comfort. Her gen- 
tleness, too, was another attraction, it 
soothed and quieted her father’s irritable 
temper, while Mabel’s v/aywardness and 
strange freaks, to use his own expression, 
“almost drove him mad.” She was never 
quiet a moment. From the hour her little 
feet could carry her about, she wandered 
when and where she pleased, frightening 
her nurse by her exploits, and laughing in 
childish daring at her father’s threats of 
punishment. But it was not merely the 
exuberant spirits of health that character- 
ized Mabel. From earliest childhood she 
was subject to strange fits and outbursts, 
which could be compared to nothing but 
actual madness. They frightened even 
Basil, used as he was to storms of his own 
raising. And yet the child seemed to have 
a strong comprehensive intellect, which 
rapidly mastered everything placed within 


94 


THE BEAUFOKTS: 


its grasp, and that with little care or cul- 
tivation on her father’s part. His whole 
heart seemed centered in Anastasia, and 
Mabel was suffered to learn as she could 
and would. As she grew up, nothing could 
resist her determined will. If she met 
with a book in an unknown tongue which 
she wished to read, she forthwith set to 
work to master the language. It was thus 
she learned English, with some little as- 
sistance from her father, who had began 
teaching it to Anastasia. One day, when 
about ten years old, she went with Alexis 
to church, and there heard the music and 
saw the ceremonies, which in after life had 
such powerful command over her. She 
came home wild with excitement, and so 
anxious to know what it all meant, that 
the simple explanations of the old gardener 
did not satisfy her. Spite of his neglect, 
she had the greatest respect for her father’s 
learning, and straightway the wayward 
child went to him and boldly questioned 
him upon subjects he had not thought of 
for years. She would know the why and 
the wherefore of all things, and even Basil 
was startled and astonished at the intellect 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 95 

she manifested. It made him proud of her, 
and yet he was frightened too. That pas- 
sionate thirst of hers for knowledge made 
him think of his own childish longings; 
made him think of the days when his own 
intellect was in its dawn, when the whole 
world was a wonder and a beauty to him, 
and he had so greedily imbibed all kinds 
of learning. He, as well as Mabel, had 
been insatiable. But no kind hand had led 
him in a right path, and so, although he 
learnt much which the world esteems, there 
was little else in his mind. Not so in after 
years. From old family records and stray 
letters, and more than all from the tradi- 
tions of the neighborhood, he had learnt 
his father’s history long before he left 
America, and strange thoughts had tor- 
mented him, and to know the truth, wild 
longings had filled his heart. And yet, 
when he wandered over Europe, standing 
in many a place made holy by the martyrs 
of that Faith Hugh Beaufort had deserted ; 
kneeling in her magnificent churches, and 
listening to the explanations of her doc- 
trines, he resisted the strong impulses of 
his own heart which prompted him to re- 


96 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


pair, inasmuch as he could, the evil his 
father had done ; resisted the sweet plead- 
ings of grace, and went on in the infidelity 
in which he had been raised. One pecu- 
liar grace was granted to him which was 
denied to his brother, Cyril. From the 
very hour he first knew anything of Cath- 
olicity, he believed in the truth and infalli- 
bility of the Church. It seemed as if a 
spark of that Faith which had once burnt 
so brightly in the soul of every Beaufort, 
had been infused into his. The secret of 
it was, he had been baptized. The faith- 
ful Catholic servant who had succeeded in 
saving Catherine Beaufort from the un- 
faithfulness of her family, had made the 
attempt with Basil. She had stolen him 
off when an infant, and carried him to the 
priest, who was then visiting Woodville, 
and had pleaded so eloquently that he con- 
sented to baptize the child, on condition 
that she would do all in her power to 
bring him up a Catholic. But as he grew 
up he was too head strong and passionate 
to be at all under her influence, and she 
consoled herself by doing all she could for 
the gentle lovable Catherine. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 97 


It seemed now that Mabel had entered 
upon the same path her father had travelled 
before her. W ould she slight grace as he 
had done, and end by being as careless as 
he? He thought not as he sat looking 
at the bright, excited eyes gazing so 
eagerly into his. And yet, with strange 
perversity, he refused to instruct her. 
Surely the demon had possession of his 
soul, when he could look upon his inno- 
cent child, and resolutely bar against her, 
as far as he could, the doors of truth. He 
would tell her nothing, but pleaded igno- 
rance. She left him, deeply disappointed, 
but with a resolute look in her childish 
face, which convinced him she was deter- 
mined to know what she desired, no matter 
through whom or how that knowledge 
came. And then, in a frenzy of evil pas- 
sion, he went about the house gathering 
up every book from which she could have 
gleaned the least information, made a huge 
bonfire of them, and then sat down with 
an almost demoniacal pleasure, to think 
how impossible it was for her to learn much 
about Catholicity. But the Eternal has 
ways of His own, and He laughs at the 


98 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


I 


attempts of man to resist Him. Mabel 
learned all she could from the old gar- 
dener, enough to love his faith. 

Years passed by. The fair twins grew 
up into lovely womanhood, both exceed- 
ingly beautiful^Anastasia so gentle and 
winning, that it was impossible not to 
love her. With the growth and develop- 
ment of her really strong intellect, Mabel 
seemed to grow more wild and fitful. She 
was incomprehensible to all about her, 
but that gave her little trouble. It seemed 
of little matter to her whether she was 
beloved or not, and all the affection of her 
own nature seemed divided between her 
sister and her horse. Unfortunately for 
her, Alexis died when she was just begin- 
ning to be a little subdued by his teachings, 
and from that time the strange girl seemed 
to forget them. All impressions were ob- 
literated, and she was again the wild, 
untamable Mabel of early childhood. 

At last a stern summons came to Basil 
Beaufort. A call, which he could not dis- 
obey if he would, sounded through all the 
chambers of his heart, and trembling with 
fear, he laid down to die. And then it 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 99 

was that his neglect of God was fearfully 
punished, then it was that grace deserted 
him entirely, and left him in the hands of 
despair. The last sensible act he per- 
formed, was to write a letter to his brother, 
Cyril, entrusting his orphan children to 
his care, unconscious that that brother had 
long since been summoned to his account. 
After that, reason fled and he died raving 
mad, calling in his delirium upon the God 
he had deserted, to come and save him, 
and then cursing Him like one already 
damned. It was a frightful death-bed, and 
haunted poor Mabel long years after. 
When all was over, the orphans went to 
America to fulfil their own destiny. 




100 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


g CHAPTER X.- g, 

PLANS AND DISCOVERIES. 

@/ — 

HEN Catherine awoke from 
her sweet refreshing slumber, 
the sunshine was streaming 
full upon her, but not brighter 
than the sudden light which 
had flooded her soul. The 
earth was in bridal array. 
The rough, dark mountains 
were covered with snow, the leafless trees 
were folded in white, and over all gleamed 
the red flush of the morning, like a soft 
blush arising to the pallid face of a bride. 
Neither the spring time of the year, nor 
the queenly summer, nor autumn, with 
ail its magniflcence, had ever been more 
beautiful in Catherine’s eyes, than that 
cold winter morning. Life had suddenly 



A TALE OF THE ALLEGHAXIES. 101 

changed from a dark, hopeless thing, to 
sometiag full of beauty ; nature was trans- 
formed, earth and sky were brightened by 
the reflection of her own gladness. She 
had been sleeping in the shadow of despair, 
and now awoke to the full light of hope. 
Mabel came in before she was dressed, her 
face radiant, and her lips parted with such 
a smile as Catherine had never seen. 

“ Is it not glorious, this morning, Gassy?” 
she exclaimed. “ Zephyr and I have been 
out for an hour, and I’m so warm now, I 
can hardly stay in doors.” She threw up 
the window and leaned out as if the cold, 
piercing air was delicious. 

“But remember, Mabel, if you please, 
that my blood has not been stirred up like 
yours.” 

“ O, I did not think !” she said, quickly 
closing the window again. “ I’ve been so 
accustomed to think only of myself! But 
never mind. Gassy, you and I will be good 
yet; won’t we, my darling?” And she 
whirled Catherine around in her arms as 
if she had been a child, and then laughed 
at her own strength. But there was no 
9 * 


102 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


wildness in her mirth, she was only too 
light-hearted to be still. 

“ What has become of Anastasia and 
Mr. Beaufort ?’’ she asked, presently. “ I 
thought last night, perhaps he might stay, 
it was so stormy.” 

“ Stay, indeed ! I would not let him,” 
Mabel answered.’ “I left Anastasia fast 
asleep, more than an hour ago, and as I 
passed Edward’s eyrie, saw the honorable 
gentleman standing at a window with his 
cloak folded around him as if he was freez- 
ing.” 

“ But he’ll come down to-day, even if 
he has to wade knee-deep in snow,” Gassy 
said, laughing. “ Don’t you think, Mabel, 
he and Asie will marry, some day?” 

Mabel sprang from her chair as if shot, 
and as quickly sank back. “ Let him if 
he dare I” Again the wild gleam was in 
her eyes, but it quickly died away, and 
with it the rich color which had been 
glowing in her face. “I wonder what 
could have been in my father’s letter ?” 
she went on, as if talking to herself. “ He 
might have said something of that she sat 
musing and rocking to and fro in her chair 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 103 

for many moments, and then with the old 
gesture, waving her hand before her eyes, 
as if putting aside something, began talk- 
ing of their last night’s conversation. 

“We must do something. Gassy,” she 
said. “ I feel that I must act and not sit 
idly here amusing myself all my life long. 
I must work, and then, perhaps, those 
fearful fits I so dread will never return 
again. I have energy enough just now 
to move mountains.” 

“We must begin with ourselves, dear 
Mabel,” Catherine said, a little sadly. 
“ W must try to grow better in our own 
hearts. And then there are the poor and 
sick we can visit, and the children we can 
teach.” 

“Sure enough ! Wont it be delightful!” 
And again and again her musical laugh 
rang through the room. 

“What are you two doing?” asked 
Anastasia, putting her head in at the door. 
“Don’t you hear the breakfast bell?” 

“ Yes. And as I live there’s Edward 
Beaufort calling us down,” said Mabel. 
He was standing at the foot of the steps 
and offered his hand to each of the girls 


104 


THE BEAUFOKTS: 


as they came down. Anastasia’s rested in 
it a moment, but Mabel’s just touched the 
tips of his fingers, saying he deserved no 
more for not being up in time to ride 
with her. 

Those were grand schemes the young 
enthusiasts formed for their future life, 
and for a while they acted upon them. 
Catherine was the least sanguine of the 
two ; she knew from sad experience that 
she could not trust herself, and, perhaps, 
that very distrust made her persevere the 
longer. But Mabel, impetuous in all 
things, was doubly so in this matter of 
reform. The placid Anastasia was little 
disturbed by her unusual demonstrations, 
but Edward was more puzzled than ever. 
There was no end he thought to his fair 
cousin’s whims, and this last was certainly 
the most incomprehensible of all. He scarce 
owned to himself that it troubled as well as 
puzzled him, his affections were more fixed 
upon Mabel than he saw at the time. And 
yet he was trying to persuade himself that 
he loved Anastasia, and this very even- 
ing, which had so .changed Mabel, a dec- 
laration had trembled upon his lips. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 105 

Mabel bad been so startled at the very 
mention of the subject, that Catherine was 
convinced she had more interest in her 
haughty cousin than perhaps she herself 
was aware of. But after that one involun- 
tary betrayal of feeling, Mabel was the 
same that she had always been in regard 
to Edward ; at times laughing at him in 
her mocking way, or tantalizing him, and 
again so fascinating him by her conversa- 
tion and music, that Anastasia was fairly 
forgotten. 

So things went on for a while, Catherine 
growing daily more like her old happy, 
quiet self, as she yielded more and more to 
the sweet promptings of grace, and re- 
turned to her old allegiance; and Mabel, 
studying, visiting the poor and sick, and 
“talking religion,” as Edward called it, in 
her usual fitful way. One change for the 
better was perceptible, she rarely yielded 
now to the gloom which had once envel- 
oped her, was not near so wild and way- 
ward, and, as Edward was. forced to 
acknowledge to himself, was all the more 
lovable for the softening down. 

• She came in from the town one evening, 


106 THE BEAUFOETS: 

fluslied witli her walk, as well as some 
pleasant excitement. Edward was in the 
room, as usual, reading aloud to Catherine 
and Anastasia, and although she was full 
of a new plan, Mabel unconsciously stopped 
on the threshold to listen to his fine voice 
and delivery, as he read the concluding 
lines of Keats’ Ode to the Nightingale. 

“Ah ! That is beautiful !” she said, as 
he pronounced the last “ farewell,” in a 
soft, fading cadence. “I had no idea, Ed- 
ward, that you read so well.” 

“ Indeed I I shall show you more of my 
powers,” he said, with a pleased smile, 
springing up to make room for her ; “ where 
have you been ?” 

“ In town. And you can’t think. Gassy, 
what I have heard! you remember you 
told me the other night that my Aunt 
Catherine had been raised a Catholic by 
an old family servant. Was it so, Ed- 
ward ?” she asked,, turning suddenly to 
him. 

“ Indeed, Mabel, I know very little of 
our family matters. My father never 
spoke of them. I believe there was some 
report to that effect, and our grandfather 
disinherited her for it.” 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 107 

“ Shame upon him !” exclaimed Mabel. 

“ WeH, Gassy, they say in town, that the 
very same woman is living but five miles 
from here, and in a destitute condition ; 
that must not be allowed. We will go to 
see her to-morrow morning.” 

“ She must be very old,” Edward said. 

“Yes, over ninety, they say, and very 
childish. Poor old creature ! She should 
have been attended to before this. I will 
bring her home with me, if she will come.” 

Edward scarce knew whether she meant 
it as a reproach to him or not, yet the hot 
blood mounted to his forehead, and his 
brows came together. But the feeling of 
resentment passed, when Mabel, turning 
to him with one of her bewitching smiles, 
asked him if he would accompany them. 
Little as he liked the trip, he could not 
refuse. So it was arranged that he should 
drive Anastasia and Catherine in his own 
buggy, while Mabel of course would mount 
Zephyr. 

“Why not come with us?” Edward 
said, half in earnest, although he knew^ 
that it was impossible. 

“ Thank you,” she said ; “I think three 


108 


THE BEAUFOKTS : 


more than enough for a one-seat, one-horse 
concern.” 

The next day dawned bright and clear, 
and so mild that it felt almost like spring. 
Mabel was in extacies, and the rest could 
scarce help sharing her exuberant spirits. 
It was a day that Catherine long remem- 
bered. The bright sunshine and the mild 
air was delicious, but other things made 
her happier. For the first time since she 
had known him, Mr. Beaufort laid aside 
his haughty condescention of manner and 
fascinated her by his brilliant and poetic 
conversation. Anastasia said little, but 
looked perfectly satisfied to be near Ed- 
ward, and Mabel kept dashing ahead of 
them, and then returning to make some 
merry speech, and waken the echoes of 
the mountains with her laughter. At 
last they reached the place, a miserable 
hovel on the very edge of a deep ravine- 
It looked, Mabel said, as if a breath might 
overturn it. A boy of twelve or fourteen 
years was cutting wood near by, and Ed- 
ward called him. 

“is this where Mrs. Acton lives?” 
Mabel asked. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES- 109 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, in a quiet, 
melancholy tone, that went to Catherine’s 
heart; she knew that suffering alone could 
have given it. There was a look of pre- 
mature age, too, on the thin, pinched face, 
and a strange, sorrowful shadow in the 
deep blue eyes. “That child is older in 
feeling than you or I, Edward,” Mabel 
whispered, after a moment’s gaze. 

“ Do you want so see her, ladies,” the 
boy said, with a sweet politeness. Grand- 
mother is very old, and sometimes talks 
very strangely. She has been dreaming 
of old times this morning, I think, and 
talks of the Beauforts, a family who once 
lived in Woodville.” 

“ Come, let us go in,” Mabel said, “ and 
then added, “tell her that Mabel Beaufort 
has come to see her.” 

A look of pleased surprise passed over 
the boy’s face, as he led the way and 
opened the scarce closed door of the hut. It 
was a miserable place within, the broken 
window stuffed with rags, great chinks in 
the walls and floor, into which the air 
came in gusts, and only an excuse for a 
fire in the wide open chimney-place. 

10 


110 . 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


Pleasant as it ivas out of doors, Anastasia 
shivered as she stood with Mabel on the 
threshold. Wrapped in a tattered shawl, 
the old woman sat near the embers, rock- 
ing to and fro, and muttering to herself. 
The child spoke to her several times, but 
she did not notice him, until he struck 
her slightly and said, “ Grandmother, here 
is Mabel Beaufort come to see you.” 

The name seemed to arouse her, “ A 
Beaufort,” she said slowly. “Yes, they 
are all cursed, every Beaufort in the land.” 

Edward and Catherine had lingered 
outside, admiring the wild scenery, and 
just then Gassy laughed gaily at some 
quaint speech of Edward. 

“ Who is that ?” the old woman asked, 
starting up. 

“ Miss Keene, one of my friends,” Ma- 
bel said, coming forward. “ She is out- 
side with my cousin Edward. And here 
is my sister, Anastasia,” she continued, 
leading her in. “We have all come to see 
you.” 

“Edward and Anastasia and Mabel 1 
Who may you all be?” the old woman 
muttered, pulling at her tattered shawl. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. Ill 

“ Edward is the son of Cyril Beanfort,” 
Mabel answered, “and Anastasia and I 
are Basil’s children. You knew them 
both, did you not?” 

“Yes! yes! But where is Catherine, 
the flower of the flock ; the poor outcast 
child. My little darling Catherine, they 
treated her badly!” And the poor old 
creature moaned piteously. Again Cassy’s 
laugh rang out, and Mrs. Acton stretched 
out her arms. “ That is her voice ! That 
is Catherine Beaufort’s voice ; bring her 
here !” 

The boy shook his head sadly, and 
whispered to Mabel “ May I call her in? 
Grandmother will not be satisfied unless 
I do. These old dreams haunt her so.” 

Mabel stepped to the door herself, and 
brought her in. It was strange to see the 
change which came over the old woman, as 
Cassy, half-shrinking and blushing deeply 
stood before her. A flash of life came 
into the withered, pallid face, and a gleam 
of tenderness lit up the dimmed eyes and 
the shrunken lips parted with a smile. 

“Have you come at last, Catherine?’’ 
she said, in trembling tones, not the tremu- 


112 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


legsness of old age alone, but of deep 
emotion. “ Mj little darling I My Gassy I” 
and before Catherine could speak, she was 
folded closely in those old shaking arms, 
and the hot tears of joy were raining over 
her face. 

“0 grandmother!” said the boy, quite 
distressed at Catherine’s evident embar- 
rassment. “ Do not be thinking always 
of those old days. That is Miss Keene.” 

“No, no. I will never call her that. She 
is my Cassy Beaufort. Let me see if you 
are not.” She gently turned her face so 
that she could gaze into it, softly stroking 
back the hair, and talking rather to her- 
self than to others. 

“Yes. This soft fair hair is my Cathe- 
rine’s. I’ve dressed it many a time, haven’t 
I, deary ? And which of all the Beauforts 
had the broad white forehead and sweet 
mouth that you have? Those are your 
mother’s eyes, darling. My master Hugh’s 
were darker and fiercer. O you are the 
only true hearted among them, Cassy.” 

And so talking and caressing her, old 
Mrs. Acton seemed heedless of the rest. 
Edward and Anastasia thought it all a 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 113 

fancy of the old woman’s, but not so Ma- 
bel. She stood by with dowmbent head 
and folded arms, thinking how strange it 
would be if Catherine was indeed her 
cousin. She was very like the picture of 
Catherine Beaufort, which was in Ed- 
ward’s room, more so now that the cloud 
of gloom had passed from her face. Not 
in features, indeed, for Catherine Keene’a 
were far from being as perfect as Cathe- 
rine Beaufort’s, but in the quiet, half-sad 
expression that rested upon them. And 
then Mrs. Acton called her Cassy, a pet 
name she had borne when her father and 
mother were alive to caress her. More 
convincing of all to Mabel was the strange 
attraction she had felt toward her from the 
moment of their meeting. “ Surely,” she 
said to herself, “ there must be kindred 
blood in our veins.” And then, as Mrs. 
Acton was still caressing and muttering 
over Catherine, and Edward and Anasta- 
sia had gone out to walk, she called the 
boy aside to question him. 

He told her he and his grandmother 
were all now left of a once large family, 
that they were very poor, having no means 
10 * 


114 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


of subsistence but his own scanty earnings 
from cutting and selling wood. He could 
read, he said, and would like to go to 
school, but that was not worth thinking 
of. 

Mabel saw there was more than ordi- 
nary intellect in the child’s finely formed 
head and sorrowful face. 

“Well, Henry,” she said — that was his 
name — “ you shall learn all you want to, 
if you will come and live with me. Don’t 
you think your grandmother would 'con- 
sent ?” 

“ I cannot leave her,” the boy said, with 
quivering lips. 

“Ho! no! I would not ask it,” Mabel 
said, quickly. “ I want you both. Your 
grandmother was kind to my kindred, and 
I want to repay her now. It is late, indeed, 
for that. Don’t you think you and I, 
Henry, might persuade her to come and 
live with me ?” Mabel’s bright smile 
called up an answering one on the pale, 
young face, and then the two went to the 
old woman. It did not take them long to 
convince her she would be better off in 
the old homestead where her young days 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 115 


were passed, than in that miserable hovel. 
But Mabel and Henry alone would scarce 
have been able to do it, had not Catherine 
joined her entreaties to theirs. She could 
not refuse her “ darling Gassy,” the old 
woman said, and so it was arranged that 
Mabel should send for them the next day. 

All the way home, Mabel was laying 
plans for the future. Once again in her 
old home, Mrs. Acton, she thought, would 
remember many of the scenes which had 
happened there, she would talk of Gassy 
and Basil and Cyril, and the warm-hearted, 
sanguine Mabel felt sure she would some 
day discover whether or not Catherine 
Keene was Catherine Beaufort’s child. In 
the mean time she resolved to say nothing 
of the matter to Gassy herself, until per- 
fectly sure her hopes and convictions 
proved true. 


116 


THE BEAUF0ET3 : 


^ CHAPTEE XI. ^ 

THE MIDNIGHT MASS. 

) T was Christmas Eve. The old 
hall at the homestead, which had 
not been used for many long 
years, was warmed, and lighted 
up, and garlanded with ever- 
greens. It was easy to see that 
§ S Mabel had been busy there. 
Traces of her fanciful nature were left 
upon everything, in the quaint droopings 
of the garlands, in the strongly contrasted 
pictures hung together, in the face of the 
window curtains, and in the ornaments of 
the Christmas-tree, which stood in the 
centre of the room. No one did things 
just as she. 

Anastasia stood near the window, appar- 
ently watching the sun going down, but in 



• A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 117 

reality gazing abstractedly at her cousin 
Edward, who was making his way down 
the mountain path, and would soon be 
with her. 

Before he arrived, however, Mabel and 
Gassy, who had been to town to gather up 
the poor children, came in with a troop of 
the little ones, who looked in wondering 
admiration at the preparations made for 
their reception. 

When Edward came, Mabel was flying 
about from one to the other, giving toys, 
and eliciting laughter from the shyest. 
“ How very beautiful she is !” he whis- 
pered to Anastasia, and then, with a pass- 
ing greeting to Gassy, went to help her. 

“ Gome, Mabel, let me make friends 
with them, too,” he said, picking up a 
book. “ Who is this for ?” 

“ 0, that is Henry Acton’s. Where is 
he? Gassy, do go and bring him and the 
old lady down. I thought they were here.” 

Mabel had fulfilled her promise, and 
Mrs. Acton and her grandson were now 
domiciled with her. They came in pre- 
sently, while Mabel was talking rapidly 
to Edward and Anastasia of the Midnight 


118 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


Mass to be celebrated in Woodville. A 
priest had arrived that evening, and she 
and Gassy were going. “ You and Asie 
must go with us, Edward,” she said. “It 
will be so delightful.” 

“Which? Our going, or the Mass?” 
Edward asked, with his scornful smile. 

“Not the first, certainly,” Mabel an- 
swered, with a flashing look ; “ we can 
easily dispense with your company. Ana- 
stasia, I know will go.” 

“It is so cold, sister, and that will be 
such an unseasonable hour to go out, 
that ” 

“ Bah ! Stay with Mr. Beaufort, if you 
want to then,” she answered, impetuously. 
“ Henry Acton is going to be our escort.” 

The boy looked up into her face with a 
pleased smile. He was already devoted to 
her, short as the time had been since he 
first saw her. Over him as over Gassy she 
exercised a species of fascination, and no 
wonder, for her every thought seerhed to 
be for their happiness. Even Anastasia 
was not ranked before them, and she felt 
somehow that a gulf was growing between 
herself and her sister, and so loved Edward 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 119 

all the more. But if he had been true- 
hearted, he would not so have engaged her 
affections, for his own were in Mabel’s 
keeping, little as she suspected it. He 
could not understand her, and feared to 
risk a proposal. 

That Christmas eve was a merrier one 
than the old hall had witnessed for years. 
Mabel gave herself up to the wildest enjoy- 
ment, and Edward joined her, half-pleased 
and half-provoked. Anastasia was quiet 
as usual, but none the less happy ; a jeal- 
ous or suspicious thought never entering 
her mind, and Gassy sat listening to old 
Mrs. Acton’s tales, and submitting to her 
caresses. 

It was near midnight when the whole 
party, the infirm old woman excepted, 
sallied out for town. Mabel, of course, was 
in front, now dancing and sliding over the 
frozen ground, among the children, and 
making the mountains echo with her wild 
song and laughter, now flying back to 
chide the rest for their tardiness. Gassy 
could not be gay ; a soft, sad quietude had 
come over her spirits, and a kind of awe 
too, because that night she was to receive 


120 


THE BEAUFOETS: 


her long neglected Lord. So she walked 
silent and thoughtful beside young Henry 
Acton, while Edward and Anastasia, whis- 
pering low to each other, followed. They 
were soon at the door of the house in 
which Mass was to be celebrated, and then 
Mabel grew somewhat quieter. Marshal-- 
ing her little troup into order, she led the 
way, and presently all were before the 
altar. The priest was already vested, and 
stood at its foot, repeating the first words 
of the Mass. Catherine was overpowered. 
She could only kneel and weep, not the 
bitter, scorching tears that had so often 
flowed over her face, but a sweet shower 
which eased her full heart. And when 
her lips were “ crimsoned with the blood 
of her God,” and she knew that he was 
actually present within her heart, a gentle 
peace came over her, she felt as if she 
could fall asleep so, and only wake in 
heaven. Edward and Anastasia had re- 
mained in the back part of the room, 
standing, one with a scornful smile, and 
the other with a wondering, pleased look, 
while Mabel knelt beside her friend, trem- 
bling in every limb. Once or twice she 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 121 

grasped Cassj’s arm, but she was too ab- 
sorbed to notice her, and so sbe knelt, 
watching and listening, as if with her very 
heart. After all was over, the priest 
turned to the congregation, and spoke a 
few words. They were not eloquent in 
the strict sense of the term, but their sweet 
persuasiveness quieted Mabel. 

When he left the altar, she glided from 
her place, and going up to him, said some- 
thing the rest could not hear. That she 
was intensely ezcited, both Edward and 
Gassy knew, but neither guessed to what 
extent. 

Gassy guessed something of it when they 
came to the little frozen stream on their 
way home. Mabel leaned over the bridge, 
and gazed down with -such a look that 
Gassy was frightened. 

“ Mabel, dear^” she said, gently, “ Gome, 
let us go on.” 

“ Gassy,” Mabel replied. “ Do you know 
that if that was water instead of ice, I 
should be tempted to plunge into it, and 
sleep there forever. O, my God ! I think 
I am growing mad again. Gassy ! save 
me I save me!” And she clasped her 


122 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


hands and turned to her friend with a 
most imploring look. 

“ Don’t think of such a thing, dear 
Mabel. To-morrow we will go to see Mr. 
Stillman, and he will instruct you, and you 
will soon be a good Catholic, and then all 
these wild fancies will depart.” 

“ 0, I hope so, I hope so,” she said, with 
a sigh of relief. “ He is coming to see us 
in the morning. I have asked him. Henry 
Acton told me he knew his grandmother.” 

“ I am very glad,” Gassy said. “ I am 
sure he will do you good.” They spoke 
no more until they reached home, and then 
Mabel, with a hurried good night to her 
cousin, who was still standing on the steps 
with Anastasia, sprang in and went up to 
Cass/s room. They slept together that 
night, but Mabel was troubled, and mut- 
tered, and turned about until dajTight, 
and then got up and rode out on Zephyr, 
bitter cold though it was. Gassy could only 
pray for her. 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 123 



BASIL’S BEQUEST. 



ll through the lonely moun- 
tain passes the tramp of Ma- 
bel’s horse echoed on that 
cold dark Christmas morn- 
ing. For there was no red 
flushing in the eastern sky as 
the day awoke — only a gray 
purplish tinge, which deepened into black 
near the meridian. The wind seemed 
asleep, or rather silently gathering its 
forces for a battle. Over every thing was 
the hush of an approaching storm, and 
even Mabel herself .was quiet, sitting 
firmly on Zephyr’s back, with lips tightly 
compressed, and blanched cheek. Was 
her heart calm then to be the more terri- 
bly convulsed afterwards ? 


124 


THE BEAUFORTS ; 


As she drew near the eyrie on her way 
home, she saw Edward standing in the 
doorway, and with a sudden impulse rode 
^P- 

“ Good morning, my cousin,” she said. 
“ A merry Christmas to you. Will you be 
pleased to dine with me, to-day ?” 

“Yes,” he said, taking the reins out of 
her hands. “ That is if you will be pleased 
to breakfast with me. Come in, Mabel, 
and warm yourself at least ” 

“ Warm ! I’m in a perfect fever, now.” 
But nevertheless she sprang to the ground 
before he could assist her, and entered 
before him, calling out, “ Come and do the 
honors, quick, for I’m only going to stay 
two minutes and a half. Leave Zephyr 
there.” 

Presently both stood in the breakfast 
room, a cozy little place Edward had had 
fixed up for his own especial use. It was 
the first time Mabel had ever been in his 
house, and a strange thrill went through 
his heart, as he gazed upon her standing 
before the fire. 

“Dear Mabel, I am glad you are here! 
W ould that I could keep you here always,” 


A TALE OP THE ALLEGE ANIES. 125 

he said, with no little emotion. And 
then suddenly bending over her he kissed 
her forehead, for the second time in his 
life. 

She did not stir, but a strange smile 
passed over her face. She was thinking 
of Anastasia, and wondering if Edward 
had not said the same thing to her. “Ma- 
bel,” he went on earnestly, “did you read 
the letter you brought from your father?” 

“No. What was it about?” Still 
gazing into the fire, and standing motion- 
less within his arm. 

He unlocked a desk which was in the 
room, and placed the letter in her hands. 
Never in her life had Mabel been so com- 
pletely self-possessed, nothing but the deep 
unchanging color in her face, and the 
resolute pressure of her lips told of the 
wild storm that was raging in her heart. 
And those Edward did not notice — he 
thought her cold and passionless as he had 
never before seen her. 

“ Cyril, my brother,” the letter said, 
“ we have been parted many years, and 
the last words that were spoken between 
us were words of bitter anger. It may 
11 * 


126 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


seem strange to you, therefore, that I leave 
you the most precious things I have — my 
daughters. I have not long to live, Cyril, 
and they will have no friend when I am 
gone, unless you will be one. I implore 
you, brother, by the memory of our mother, 
vho left you and I, as my Anastasia left 
her twins, to love and take care of my 
children. If you have sons, let the fami- 
lies be united. My children are beautiful 
and gifted, Cyril, and will do honor to 
any husband. I can write no more. Ma- 
bel will give you this, and if you do not 
fulfil my wishes, the curse which has so 
long rested upon our unhappy race, will 
sink deeper into the destiny of your pos- 
terity, and make them more miserable than 
even you and I have been.” 

That was all. Mabel read it over twice, 
and then, without comment, handed it back 
to Edward. “Well, Mabel,” he said, 
“have you nothing to say? No hope to 
give me ?” 

“ You need not despair,” she answered, 
lightly. “ My father gave no charge to 
you, so the curse cannot rest upon you.” 

“ Do not misunderstand me ; it is of the 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 127 

proposed union I speak. Why cannot we 
fulfil your father’s injunctions ? I love 
you, Mabel ! you know it !” He approached 
and tried to take her hand, but she shrank 
from his touch. 

“ Stand back, Mr. Beaufort 1” she said, 
with startling vehemence. “ How should 
I know it ? you have taken a strange way 
to show it to me. Answer me, Sir, have yoti 
not from the hour of our arrival devoted 
yourself to my sister? Have you not won 
her love ? And now you would fain make 
me believe that I am the elect of your 
heart. Shame upon you, base Beaufort 
that you are ! Listen to me. Anastasia 
loves you, though you do not deserve her 
love, and I will not suffer her heart to be 
broken. * Kemember, Edward, it is I,' 
Mabel Beaufort, who say this, and I will 
have my way. You shall love her^ not 
me, as in truth I believe you do, whatever 
may be your motive for trying to make 
me think the contrary. Eemember, sir, 
you are to marry my sister — and to make 
her happy, too,” she added, lowering her 
voice, and speaking with a wild, sybil-like 


128 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


look, “ else a curse will rest upon you 
forever.” 

She gathered up her riding skirt, sprang 
from the room, and in another moment 
was riding down the narrow way as if no 
harm could ever happen to her or her 
steed, while Edward Beaufort remained 
standing where she had left him, petrified 
tvith astonishment. 



A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 129 


, CHAPTEE XIII. |t 

A DISCOVERY. 

[^sm§i§p^(Sr- 


^ASSY was busy as usual with 
Mrs. Acton, when Mabel 
entered, with so white a 
face that her friend was 
startled. “ Mabel ! what is 
the matter? Let me get 
you a cup of cofiee, you look 
ready to faint.” 

“ Xo 1 I want some water ! Ah ! that 
is refreshing,” she said, as she drained the 
glass Gassy had handed her. Gassy, 
don't let any one come near me. I’m tired, 
and want to rest. I’ll send for you, by 
and by.” 

But Gassy was not satisfied with her 
apparent calmness ; she felt sure something 
disturbed her, and followed her to her 



180 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


chamber. Mabel had thrown herself across 
the bed, and lay there moaning as if her 
heart would break, but at the sound of 
Cassy’s voice she sprang up with a fierce 
look. 

“ How dare you come here, Catherine 
Keene? Do you think I will have you 
looking at my agony ? What do you 
want, Anastasia?'’ she added, as her sister 
appeared at the door. “Go away! Go 
away both of you, and let me rest if I can.” 

They closed the door and went down 
stairs, Anastasia saying, with a sorrowful 
shaking of her head, “ she feared the old 
fit was returning upon Mabel.” 

In the lower hall they met Henry Acton 
with Mr. Stillman. Anastasia advanced 
to welcome him, and then, as Catherine 
extended her hand, he took it, saying with 
a smile; “yours is a very familiar face, 
I have surely seen you before.” 

“ I think not,” she answered. “ I do not 
remember ever to have met you, sir, but,” 
she added, laughing, “that I know, will 
not prevent you from being a good friend, 
now. Come in here. Father Stillman, Mrs. 
Acton is in this room.” 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 131 

The old woman sat crouching in her 
usual position over the fire, mumbling 
some unintelligible words. She had been 
more than usually flighty that morning, 
would talk of nothing but Catherine Beau- 
fort and the “ days of old.” Even when 
Mr. Stillman spoke to her, although she 
seemed to recognize him, she would still 
go on with her strange tales. 

The priest shook his head a little sadly. 
“I am afraid, Henry, your grandmother 
will never recover . her mind again. Has 
she been in this way long?” 

“ O yes. Father,” he said, his dark, lus- 
trous eyes filling with tears. “ For a year 
at least, but she has had intervals of con- 
sciousness. Ever since she has been here 
though, her mind has dwelt on her young 
days. I think the place has some efiect 
upon her.” 

“ Doubtless;’ he said, and then turning 
to Gassy again, asked her name. “You 
are a Beaufort, I am sure — but of what 
branch of the family ?” 

“Hone, Father,” Gassy answered, with 
a puzzled look, for the words recalled 
Mabel’s expression. “ I can't think how 


132 


THE BEAHFORTS: 


it comes that I am taken for one of the 
family. I am not even related to them.” 

“ Except by adoption,” Anastasia said, 
fondly, for she loved Gassy quite as much 
as Mabel, in her own quiet way. 

“Yes,” Gassy went on. “I am only a 
poor girl. Father Stillman, to whom Mabel 
and Anastasia have been exceedingly kind. 
My father was Mr. Keene of Baltimore — 
a musician,” she added a little proudly. 
“Perhaps you have heard of him.” 

“Robert Keene!” Mr. Stillman ex- 
claimed, “ I raised him, my child ; he 
lived with me for many years, and was my 
pride, my blessing. I knew you and I 
ought to be friends.” The old man's hands 
rested in benediction upon her head for 
a moment, and then he went on. “ And 
your name is Gatherine, is it not ? He 
wrote to me at the time of your birth. I 
saw him but seldom after his marriage, 
but I knew he loved me still. Where is 
be, Gatherine?” 

“ Dead !” It was all she could say — 
but a kind hand was extended in sympa- 
thy, and she bent down over it with a gush 
of tears. Anastasia and Henry stole out 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 133 

of the room; they felt their presence was 
unneeded there. 

“And your mother, Catherine?” the 
priest asked, presently. 

“ Dead, too,” she answered, sobbing. 
“I am all alone. And before I knew 
Mabel and Anastasia, I was so desolate. 
Father Stillman! But they are very, 
very kind.” 

“They have a right to be, Catherine. 
Did you not know that your mother was 
their aunt ? Catherine Beaufort the only 
daughter of old Hugh Beaufort ?” 

“ I knew it,” said a strange voice. And 
starting up, Cassy found herself in Mabel’s 
arms. “ I knew that you belonged to us — 
that you would be my friend, my guide. 
Darling, cousin Cassy. 

Cassy was bewildered for a minute, the 
knowledge came so suddenly upon her. 

“You must thank me. Miss Beaufort, 
for making you sure,” said Father Still- 
man, offering his hand to Mabel. 

“I do, indeed,” she answered, and sud- 
denly left them. She was back in a mo- 
ment with a portrait of her aunt Cathe- 
rine, which she placed in Cassy’s hands. 

12 


134 


TKE BEAUFORTS I 


“0 mother! mother!” exclaimed the 
bewildered girl, as she gazed on the dear 
well-remembered features. “Mabel, why 
did you never show me this? ‘ I should 
have recognized it immediately, although 
it must have been taken when she was 
very young. She had a sadder face than 
this when she died.” 

“ Ah ! she had seen trouble, my dear,” 
said Father Stillman. 

“ Yes,” Mabel said. “ Trouble enough 
to drive one mad. I think they told me 
old Hugh cursed her.” 

Gassy shuddered, and instinctively drew 
nearer to Father Stillman. Mabel went 
on, her face growing wild in its expression. 
“ I think Satan must have dwelt in my 
grandfather’s heart. I have heard such 
fearful things of him, that I cannot even 
bear to looji at his portrait which hangs 
in the gallery. And I believe that he has 
left an inheritance of woe to his descend- 
ants. I believe a curse has fallen upon the 
Beauforts to rest there forever. O terrible 
curse ! Ill fated race. 

She dashed out of the room, and pres- 
ently they saw her flying down the long 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHA^TlES. 135 


avenue on Zephyr’s back. Gassy told Mr. 
Stillman of her strange freaks, and of 
her fears that she was at times insane. 
“ Indeed, sir, she says herself that she is 
mad. I have noticed that only religious 
things can quiet her at all, and if she could 
be baptized, I think she would be better.” 

“And so I am a Beaufort, tool” she 
added, after a pause, “ I wonder, if, indeed, 
the race is accursed?” 

“Hush, Catherine! you must not have 
suchi foolish fancies.” 

“I will not, father; I will drive them 
away.” And then with earnest simplicity 
she told of those dark, unfaithful years of 
her life for which she was now striving to 
atone ; talked of her mother and her 
father, and the little sister who had been 
the sunshine of her life, of Mabel and 
Anastasia and Edward, until Mr. Stillman, 
smilingly told her he could stay no longer, 
and she must finish her tale some other 
time. 



136 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


^ CHAPTEK XIV. 


THE PROPOSAL. 





DWARD did not visit the home- 
stead for several days. He 
was restless and unhappy. That 
it was Mabel he had loved from 
the beginning he was satisfied 
now, although at times, he had 
from very weariness of her 
•freaks and changeable words, 
turned to Anastasia with a feeling of relief. 
But now that the strang girl had so scorn- 
fully rejected his proffered love, nay, had 
even insisted upon his transferring it to 
her sister, he had little hope of ever win- 
ning her own heart. And with all his 
bitter disappointment was mingled some 
self-reproach, for he had indeed, as Mabel 
said, given Anastasia every reason to 
believe that he would one day ask her 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 187 

hand in marriage. He had read, and 
walked, and rode with her, and worse than 
all, had with his insidious eloquence, per- 
verted the gentle but weak mind. Ana- 
stasia was ready at any moment to follow 
blindly wherever he might lead her, ready 
to peril her soul, although, poor child, she 
scarce knew what a sojil was, for one of the 
rare, brilliant smiles that at times lit up 
her cousin’s dark, stern face. Edward 
had but one comfort ; he was sure that 
Anastasia had no suspicion of his false- 
hood, and so he could easily continue in 
his old course. For with all his boasted 
intellect, a cloud of superstition darkened 
his mind, and he believed that he was 
bound to fulfil Basil Beaufort’s request, 
bound to marry one of his fair daughters, or 
be the inheritor of some deep malediction. 

And so, with this conviction strong 
upon him, he went down one day, after a 
week’s absence, to see Anastasia. Mabel 
he knew was from home, for he saw her 
walk up the mountain path and pause at 
the plateau where she had first met Cathe- 
rine Keene. 

The family were in the large front room, 

13 ^ 


138 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


half-parlor, half-library, which they used 
more than any other ; Henry Acton busy 
with the task Mabel had given him, his 
grandmother crouching as usual in the 
chimney corner, mumbling to herself, and 
Gassy close beside her, sewing. Anasta- 
sia had been sitting all the morning in the 
deep bay window, making a pretence of 
reading, but although her fair face was 
bent down over the book, and her eyes 
were resolutely fixed upon the page, she 
saw little that was written there. The 
hours passed by and not a leaf was turned, 
she sat there, pale and weary, looking as 
she had never looked before. Presently 
she raised her eyes, and with a flushed 
cheek, and a glad exclamation, put down 
her book, and went out. Edward was 
walking rapidly up the avenue. She met 
him at the door, and with the frankness 
of a child, told him how glad she was to 
see him. 

“ Where have you been, all this time, 
Edward?” 

“ Go and get your bonnet and shawl, and 
I’ll tell you,” he answered. 

She went back for them, stopping at the 
parlor door to say^ to Catherine: “If 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 139 

Mabel comesj tell her I have gone to walk 
with Edward,” and was at his side again 
in a moment. He drew her arm within 
his own, and scarce conscious of where he 
was going, walked on. 

“ Well, Edward,” she said, presently, 
“Where have you been, and what is the 
matter with you ?” 

“ T have been home, trying to force my 
heart to forget one it loves too well,” he 
answered, abruptly. Her face paled, and 
the hand that rested upon his arm trem- 
bled. But, heedless of it, he continued, 
“Anastasia, when your father wrote to 
mine, he begged that the two branches of 
the family might be united by marriage, 
and I need not tell you that to fulfil his 
desire is my greatest happiness. Will 
you be my wife, Anastasia?” He spoke 
hurriedly, almost with effort, but not in 
the eager, passionate way he had one little 
week before spoke to Mabel. His heart 
was not in his words, but Anastasia, guilt- 
less herself, never suspected him of guile. 
And so, with happy tears she told him 
how well she loved him, how pleased 
Mabel would be. “ But you must speak 
to her, dear Edward, she is so much better 


140 


THE BEAUTOETS : 


than I, so much more gifted, that I would 
like to show her that much respect.” 

He shrank at the name, but promised. 
And then saying, with a quick gasp of 
relief, “ well, I am satisfied now. Let us 
go back.” 

Before they reached the door, Mabel 
dashed by, kissing her hand gaily to them 
as she passed. Neither guessed she had 
heard all that had passed. “ Anastasia,” 
Edward said, as they paused on the steps, 
“ I will not go in now — you must speak 
to Mabel for me. She is so wild and 
strange sometimes, I cannot get her to 
listen to me. Good-bye for a little while.” 
She held his hand in both 6f hers for a 
moment, gazing up into his face with her 
very soul in her eyes, and then releasing 
him, went slowly in. 

Again she sat in the window with down- 
bent head, but no longer sad. Happiness 
was flooding her heart, and lighting up 
her young face. And Mabel, too, seemed 
happy that day. She was gentler than 
usual, though restless, and many times in 
her in-coming and out-going, paused to 
gaze lovingly at the sweet picture Ana- 
stasia made, as she sat there in the bright 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 141 

sunlight. But she gave her sister no 
opportunity through the day of telling her 
the sweet secret of her joy. She was 
apparently much occupied with household 
duties, got out her account book, and 
pored over the long columns of figures, 
heard Henry Acton’s lessons, wound silk 
for Gassy, practised diligently a difficult 
piece of music which had been sent her, 
and all with the look of one bent upon 
something. So the day went by, and the 
cold night came on, and with it Edward 
Beaufort. Mabel greeted him very kindly, 
but very soon excused himself, and they 
saw her no more that evening. 

Gassy remained at her work long after 
Henry and his grandmother had retired, 
for Anastasia kept her to tell Edward how 
they had discovered her relationship. His 
face clouded at the news, and his manner 
grew more haughty than ever, until at last, 
with a feeling of indignation, she left them 
and went up stairs. As usual, she opened 
Mabel’s door to tell her good night. 

Mabel was sitting before the fire, her 
long hair unbound and hanging about her, 
and her face bent down to her knees. 

“Dear Mabel, what is the matter?’* 


142 


THE BEAUFOKTS: 


Gassy asked, coming and laying her hand 
gently upon the down-bent head. 

“Nothing,” she answered, without look- 
ing up. “ My head aches — that is all. 
Good night. Gassy.” 

“ Good night, Mabel,” was answered, 
by a lingering voice. “ Let me stay with 
you until Anastasia comes, won’t you ?” 

“ Where is she ?” 

“ Down stairs, talking to Edward.” 

Mabel sprang to her feet at the name, 
and then sat down in a chair close by. 
She had been on the rug. “ I’m tired of 
my lowly position,” she said, laughing. 
“ Go to bed. Gassy, and don’t make such a 
baby of me — a little headache is nothing.” 

Presently she was alone again, and in 
her former position, only now she rocked 
to and fro, and moaned. Near midnight 
Anastasia came up and found her so, but 
she was too happy, and too used to Mabel’s 
capricious doings to think any thing amiss. 
So she sat down beside her sister, and told 
her all that had happened; how much 
Edward loved her, haw happy she would 
be. “Are you not glad, Mabel?” she 
asked. “You must tell me, dear sister, for 
I would not be so happy, if you were notA 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 143 

“ Yes, I am glad,” she said, slowly. 

“I knew you would be!” Anastasia 
said, and then, nestling up to her sister, 
gave herself up to pleasant dreams. 

“ When is this marriage to fake place ?” 
Mabel asked, after a long silence. 

“ I hardly know yet, sister ; Edward 
wishes it as soon as possible.” 

“ Indeed 1 And so fo\i will leave me, 
Asie?” Mabel said, bitterly. 

“No, no! Mabel, how can you think so? 
That was not in our bargain. I made 
Edward promise to come here and live 
with us.” 

If she had seen Mabel’s face at the 
moment, she would have been convinced 
that arrangement was anything but pleasant 
to her. But she made no objection. 

“Go to bed, now, Asie. I have some 
writing to do.' Good night, darling.” She 
kissed her, and going into the library, 
brought back the large, dark book in 
which was inscribed “ Legends of the Beau- 
forts,” and opening her desk began to 
write in it. Anastasia was soon asleep, 
but Mabel wrote on until day dawned, and 
ihen went to take her usual morning ride. 


144 


THE BEAUFORTS: 



AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. 





DWARD Beaufort had passed a 
^ restless night. Strange voices 


had been talking to him in the 
tx wind, strange forms had glided 
I all night long about the gloomy 

^ rooms. He had never before 


jfe 1 1 felt so lonely, so awe-struck, 


and many a time he would 


have prayed, had not his prowd heart 
rebelled against it. Morniog came at last, 
and with it, Mabel. He had just gone 
down to the breakfast-room, and was 
standing before the fire, when she entered 
quietly, without knocking. 

“ I thought I should find you here,” she 
said, going to his side. “I want to speak 
to you about some important business, 


Edward.” 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 145 

With grave, ceremonious politeness he 
placed a chair for her, and saying he was 
“highly honored,” and “would gladly 
listen,” and other meaningless things, 
waited for her to begin. A scornful smile 
flashed over her face at the words, but her 
voice and manner were kinder than usual. 

“ It will be a strange story for you to 
hear, perhaps,” she said. “ You know, 
Edward, that our fathers, Basil and Cyril 
Beaufort had an only sister Catherine, who 
married against her father’s will, and was 
consequently disinherited. That, at least, 
is the report, but my own opinion is, that 
old Hugh Beaufort had another reason. 
Catherine was a Catholic, and that he could 
not and would not stand. And so she, 
who had been reared so delicately, was 
sent forth into the cold world, to fare as 
best she might. As long as her husband 
lived, I believe no great misfortune came 
upon them, but when he died, her sorrows 
began and lasted until her own death put 
an end to them. The only surviving child 
of this union is now with me — Cassy 
Keene — you had guessed as much, I am 
sure I” 


13 


146 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


She glanced up into his face to see the 
effect of her words. But he did not suffer 
it to betray him, and merely answered : 
“Anastasia told me of it last night.” 

“Yes! And how we discovered it of 
course, also. I felt from the very hour I 
first saw her, that she was something to 
me. Well, Edward, the business part of 
the story is this : you and I must repair 
the injustice which has been done. We 
must give Gassy the property which of 
right belonged to her mother. Old Hugh 
Beaufort had no right to cut her off’ in his 
will, and both Basil and Cyril were heart- 
less in executing so unjust an instrument. 
Asie and I will do our part.” 

She paused for his answer, but he gave 
none for several moments. 

“ But where are your proofs, Mabel?” 
he asked, finally. “ It will not do merely 
to assert her claim. No one will take your 
womanly enthusiastic feeling for proof of 
her relationship.” 

She made a great effort to keep down 
the rising storm of passion. Something 
of it flashed in her face as she answered : 
“ I knew, Mr. Beaufort, that you would ask 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 147 

more, and so I have provided for it. Mr. 
Stillman knew Gassy’s father very well, he 
has letters which speak of the marriage, 
and more conclusive still, he is sure that 
it is registered in the old book which 
belonged to the little church once in 
W oodville. This evening I will probably 
have it to show you, if you will honor me 
with a visit.” 

She arose to go, but he detained her. 
“ There is another subject to be discussed, 
Mabel. This marriage of mine. You con- 
sent to it, of course ?” 

She laughed. “ How foolish to ask. 
Don’t you know it is the dearest wish of 
my heart ?” 

He was piqued at her calmness. He had 
hoped to see some sign of emotion, for 
there still lingered a feeling that he was 
not indifferent to Mabel. But for once in 
her life she had completely mastered her 
impulses, and neither by look nor word 
betrayed herself. She knew the unwonted 
control could not last long, and hurried to 
take her leave. Edward helped her into 
the saddle, bowed with stately dignity, and 
turned back to the house as soon as she 


148 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


was fairly started. One thing he was 
determined upon — that Gassy should never 
have an acre of the land of the Beauforts 
If he could help it. But that was not in 
tiis power. 

It was well for Mabel that she had some- 
thing- to engross her mind, and keep her 
from thinking of her sister’s approaching 
marriage. Father Stillman, who was now 
to remain in Woodville, searched diligent- 
ly for the register. But it was some time 
before it could be found. So many years 
had passed since a priest had resided in 
W oodville, that the books had been taken 
to a neighboring mission for safe keeping. 
Finally it came to light — the marriage was 
there, also the baptisms of all the Beau- 
forts from Eeginald down to Catherine. 

It was one evening, late in January, 
that Father Stillman took the book to the 
homestead*. Mabel triumphantly pointed 
out to Edward, who was there, the long- 
looked-for entry. 

His face flushed up, and he put it away, 
saying, angrily, “Mabel, you are deter- 
mined to annoy me as much as possible, 
I see. I never disputed the marriage of 
Catherine Beaufort and Kobert Keene ; but 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 149 

Ilow do you know that Miss Gassy is their 
child?” 

Gassy fortunately was not in the room ; 
she had been suffering all day with the 
headache, and now was sleeping it off. 
Father Stillman answered, gently: “The 
resemblance to her mother is too strong 
to suffer a doubt, and besides I have letters 
and papers to prove it.” He had taken a 
package from his pocket and would have 
placed it in Edward’s hand, but Mabel 
prevented him. 

“No,” she exclaimed, passionately, “he 
shall not see them. Believe what you 
please, and do what you please, Edward 
Beaufort, Gassy shall never owe any thing 
to you. I will provide for her. Asie, how 
can you love so base a heart?” 

Anastasia was frightened at the abrupt 
question, and Edward looked white with' 
anger. Father Stillman put his hand 
gently upon Mabel’s arm, and the light 
touch seemed to subdue her. 

“ Indeed, sir,” she said, “it is enough 
to try any one’s patience.” 

She went to the piano, and played the 
rest of the evening to put her in a good 
humor with herself, she said. 


150 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


CHAPTER XVL 


MABEL’S LEGENDS. 







ATHERINE had a pleasant time in 
those days. Father Stillman^ 
was stationed in Woodville, 
and she spent much of her time 
with him. On the outskirts of 
the town was the little church, 
which had so long been unoc- 
cupied. It had been sadly ne- 
glected, and looked little like a fitting 
resting-place for the Most High, but it was 
soon repaired and fitted up neatly. After 
Mabel had once arranged the property to 
her satisfaction, she, too, entered heart and 
soul into all Father Stillman’s plans. She 
and Anastasia deeded to Gassy a very 
pretty place near the old homestead — the 
income of which would have supported a 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 151 


much more extravagant person than Gassy, 
but there was an express stipulation that 
she was to remain Avith the sisters as long 
as both or either of them lived. 

This weighty aftair once dismissed, Ma- 
bel was free. The preparations for Ana-, 
stasia’s wedding were making, but that 
seemed to trouble her little — she left 
the lovers to themselves, evidently to Ed- 
ward’s delight. For somehow a strange 
feeling had come over him in regard to her. 
He felt awed in her presence — almost 
afraid to play his part. It was really 
that he was doing — for he did not love 
Anastasia. Poor child ! She little sus- 
pected that. 

Once more the Holy Sacrifice was 
offered daily in Woodville — once more 
the sweet hymns of Catholic devotion 
floated out from the little church. Mabel 
had a small organ built and placed there, 
and even when the^ were no devotions 
in the church, she was there making won- 
derful music. It was strange, what rich, 
powerful strains she drew from this instru- 
ment. Sometimes a tone of the old wild 


152 


THE BEAUFOKTSr 


melanclioly surged througli them, but 
oftenest they were sweetly plaintive or 
bursting forth in rich triumph. 

A school was established too, and she 
and Gassy spent part of each day in teach- 
ing, so that her time was fully occupied. 
That, indeed, seemed to be the end of her 
desires. 

“0 don’t talk to me about it,” she said 
once, when Gassy asked something of 
Anastasia’s marriage. “I don’t want to 
think of it — only let me do what I can 
while the time lasts.” What time she did 
not say, but as spring drew near, she grew 
more restless and fitful. One day she and 
Gassy were walking home from the town. 
It was not long after Mabel had been bap- 
tized, and although a sweet tranquillity 
had for a time settled upon her, this even- 
ing she seemed very sad. The air was 
beginning to feel very spring-like, the 
trees were ready to bud, the sky had a 
soft hazy flush, and &s the sun went down 
a golden radiance lingered over the moun- 
tain tops. 

“ This world is very beautiful. Gassy,” 
Mabel said, presently. “It is hard to 


A TALE OF THE ALLEQHANIES. 153 

part with life and all its bright visions, is 
it not ?” 

“Yes, indeed,” she answered. “And 
but for the brighter future, we would 
scarce be willing to leave this earth.” 

“ The brighter future !” Mabel repeated, 
with a sigh ; “ will it really be that ?” 
And she threw off her bonnet and gazed 
around her with the look of one saying 
farewell to something very dear. “ Gassy,” 
she continued, “ when I am dead, I want 
you to remain with Anastasia. I want 
you to try and save her from Edward’s 
pernicious influences. O, why did we 
ever meet with him ! He has brought 
bitter sorrow to me, and I fear he will 
bring it to Asie, too — my darling little 
sister ! Gassy, you must take care of her.” 

“As much care as I can, Mabel — but 
you will live many years to watch over 
her. What makes you speak so of death, 
as if it was very near ?” 

“ It is near. Don’t you know that Ed- 
ward and Anastasia are to be married next 
week, and at every bridal of a Beaufort 
there is a death?” 

“Hush! hush, Mabel! don’t let those 
wild fancies trouble you again.” 


154 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


“ But they are not fancies, they are reali- 
ties, sad realities. Have I never told you 
those Legends of the Beauforts?” Her 
face was flushing, and the wild light which 
had for a while slumbered, again awakened 
in her eyes. “ Come ! Let ushurry home, 
and I will read them to you this evening.” 

She grasped Cassy’s hand, and walked 
on rapidly and in silence until they were 
home. Then she led her up into the 
library where Gassy had never been but 
once, for it was always locked, and Mabel 
kept the key. 

“There! Sit down and listen!” She 
placed her just opposite the portrait of 
Hugh Beaufort, and then putting back one 
of the curtains and reaching down the 
dark, heavily-clasped book she had shown 
Edward the first evening he visited them, 
sat down beside her and began to read in 
Greek. Presently Gassy laughed. “ Why, 
Mabel, I will not be a bit the wiser for all 
your reading, if you go on so.” 

“Ah ! I had forgotten. Well, then, you 
know of course, that the Beauforts were 
originally from England. There is still 
an estate in Devonshire which belongs to 


A TALE OF THE ALLEOHANIES. 165 

some branch of the family, and it was 
there all I am going to tell you happened. 
It is the same old history over again, a 
history so like ours here in America, that 
I sometimes fancy it must surely mean us. 
But I suppose not.” A weary, puzzled 
look swept over her face ; she was evi- 
dently troubled, and uncertain, and after 
a moment’s thought, closed the book, say- 
ing, impetuously, “ What is the use of 
going over the whole rigmarole, when I 
can tell it in a dozen sentences.” 

“Don’t tell it all if you don’t feel like 
it, Mabel,” Gassy said, for she did not like 
the expression that was settling upon her 
face. It was too like that which she had 
known in the first days of their acquaint- 
ance. 

“ Yes, but I must. In this old English 
domain once dwelt a Beaufort, proud and 
cold and stern as my grandfather, Hugh. 
People said he cared for neither friend nor 
foe, not even for wife or child. For these 
last, indeed, he showed little affection, and 
it was even whispered about that many a 
time he was cruel. Be that as it may, 
neither neglect nor cruelty chilled the 


156 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


warm Heart or dimned the lustre of Emily’s 
beauty. She grew up bright aud lovely 
as day, while her mother, poor creature, 
pined away. And then. Gassy, what could 
the lonely girl do but love, as all her sex 
must, sooner or later. It is the old, old 
story over again, and why need I repeat 
it? She loved and married, and her 

father raved and stormed, and ” here 

Mabel bent forward, fixing her wild eyes 
upon Gassy’s face, and lowering her voice 
to an awing whisper — “ and then. Gassy, 
he cursed her. O, frightful ! And, Gassy, 
the gentle mother died the very night 
her ill-fated child was married, and with 
ner last breath she prophesied that upon 
every marriage of a Beaufort there should 
also be a death. Death and a Bridal I 
And ever since. Gassy, that prophecy has 
been verified. There was Alice Beaufort ; 
‘queenly, gifted Alice,’ as the old legend 
calls her, who fled from her home with a 
wandering musician, and only returned to 
die on the night her fair young sister stood 
at the altar in bridal array. She brought 
with her an only son, and after giving him 
to her sister, disappeared, and the next 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 157 

day they found her lying stark and cold, 
out on the desolate moor, her once beauti- 
ful face, wan and pinched, and the once 
queenly form almost a skeleton. She had 
suffered for long, long years, perhaps. 

“ And Gassy, since I have been here, I 
have discovered that it was on the very 
day my father married that Cyril Beaufort 
was dashed to pieces down the precipice. 
Is it not fearful to have such a curse hang- 
ing over us?” 

Mabel had been talking rapidly and 
wildly, and seemed only to pause to take 
breath. “You see. Gassy,” she went on 
presently, “I cannot escape the doom. An- 
astasia will be the bride,’ and so I must be 
the corpse. O Gassy I Gassy, it is a terrible 
thing to go down into the silent grave so 
young, to leave the beautiful earth and 
the glad spring time, and for what? Per- 
chance there is no future, no God, no 
nothing. Perchance I may have to lie 
down in that narrow resting-place and 
moulder away like a worm, or the au- 
tumn’s withered leaves.” She started up, 
and walked to and fro with rapid, uncer- 
14 


158 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


tain steps, wringing her hands and moan- 
ing piteously. 

Gassy knew not what to say or do, and 
sat silent and bewildered. She was con- 
vinced all that Mabel had told her was 
but the coinage of her own heated fancy; 
but how convince Mabel herself that no 
such frightful doom awaited her? It 
seemed a task beyond her powers, for now 
the really insane girl was growing fear- 
fully excited. • 

“Do you know that I love Edward 
Beaufort, Gassy?” she asked, abruptly, 
stopping before her. “He might have 
saved me from the doom, but then, Asie, 
mj^ pet, my darling would have been the 
victim. I love them both so dearly. O 
Gassy, what shall I do? I cannot die! I 
will not die I So young and beautiful. 
Am I not beautiful?” She was really that 
spite of the fire-like glow in her eyes. A 
bright thought flashed upon Gassy. 

“Perhaps, after all, Mabel,” she said, 
soothingly, “ perhaps, after all, I may be 
the victim. You know I am a Beaufort, 
also. 

Mabel looked up suddenly. . “ Strange 


A TALE OP THE ALLEGHANIES. 159 

I never thought of that! No! no!” she 
exclaimed, directly, “ it must not be.” And 
in a moment her arms were closely folded 
about Gassy, and she was telling her she 
loved her too. 

It was well for both of them that Ana- 
stasia j ust then came in search of them. 

“Well! I declare you two are strange 
girls. Come down stairs, and don’t be 
moping here in the dark.” For the short 
spring twilight was deepening into night. 
They following her silently, only Mabel 
whispering, when they got on the main 
stairway, “ Gassy, for your life do not be- 
tray me.” 



160 


THE BEAUPORTS: 


CHAPTER XVIL 


THE LAST OF THE RACE. 



) 

HE bridal day came at last. An- 
astasia was very beautiful in 
her snowy robes, the delicate 
veil floating like a fleecy cloud 
over her radiant head, and the 
fair spring flowers nestling 
lovingly amid its folds. Mabel 
gazed upon her as if drinking in 
her beauty, and then turning to Catherine, 
said, with a sigh, “it is well. Better that 
she should live than I.” 

It was the first time since their inter- 
view in the library, that she had even 
alluded to the legend, and now with the 
single remark she seemed to give her 
thoughts to other things. All day long 
she was busy making preparations for the 
evening f^te. The long-closed study of 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 161 

old Hugh Beaufort was thown open and 
decked with garlands of flowers and ever- 
greens, for Mabel insisted that the mar- 
riage ceremony should be performed 
there. Colored lamps were hung in gay 
festoons from the trees in the garden, long 
'tables were spread out on the lawn and in 
quiet groves near by, for all the villagers 
were invited, and there was to be feasting 
among high and low. To Catherine it 
was all like a bright vision of fairy land, 
when the soft May twilight came down and 
the lamps were lit, and the gaily-dressed 
crowds wandered in and out. Mabel was 
every where, now flying like a spirit down 
the long walks, warbling a song, now 
seated for an instant in the midst of some 
laughing group, and then at her sister’s 
side, whispering words of tenderness never 
to be forgotten. Late in the evening all 
who could get into the library were there 
eagerly watching for the bride’s entrance. 
She came, leaning upon her sister’s arm, 
one pale the other flushed with a wild, 
feverish beauty, but both surpassingly 
lovely. Edward came forward to meet 
them. Then Mabel released Anastasia 
14 * 


162 


THE BEAUFOETS; 


after a long passionate kiss, and the 
words were pronounced which bound the 
two indissolubly. For a moment after 
it was over, Mabel looked like one stunned 
and stupefied by some sudden blow, and 
then the old mad fire flashed up in her 
eyes, the old wild tone returned to her 
voice, and going down to the piano, she 
poured forth song after song, of such pas- 
sionate pathos that none who heard her 
ever forgot them. Hour after hour passed 
by, and the feasting and gaiety went on. 
Mabel grew pale and faint as the evening 
wore on, and begged to be excused, but 
she would not suffer Catherine to accom- 
pany her. “ It is nothing but fatigue,” 
she said, and went slowly out into the 
night air. No one knew where she went 
but Gassy, who anxiously watched her 
and saw that she took the path leading to 
Edward’s Eyrie. A half hour afterwards 
a wild cry from those without startled 
those within the house, and going out a 
scene met their eyes which horrified all — 
Edward’s home was a blazing pyre. From 
bottom to top, tower and arch and battle- 
ment, all wooden structures, burnt with 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 163 


fearful rapidity, and most frightful of all, 
at the highest window of the eastern 
tower a white garment fluttered out, as if 
some one was standing upon the sill 
within. “Mabel! Mabel I” shrieked Gassy, 
the frightful thought flashed upon her that 
the crazy girl was destroying her own 
life, and as the name passed her lips, An- 
astasia fell senseless into her husband’s 
arms. Wild confusion now reigned, where 
but an hour before laughter and song and 
mirth prevailed. They bore the pale 
bride to her room, and leaving her with 
her husband went to stay, if possible, 
the flames and save Mabel. Terror lent 
Gassy wings ; she flew up the steep moun- 
tain path and gained the plateau just in 
time to see the walls of the burning edifice 
fall with a deafening crash, and hear a 
wild cry go up seemingly from the very 
heart of the flames — “ Death and a bridal 1” 
It is the Beaufort’s doom.” 

It seemed so indeed. For when Gassy 
went sorrowing back, she found Anastasia 
dying. She had broken a blood vessel, 
and no human skill could save her now. 
The day was dawning, and as the glorious 


164 : 


THE BEAUFORTS: 


sun came up from behind the mountain 
tops, Anastasia’s little “ lamp of life went 
out.” 

Edward spoke no word that day, but 
watched all the preparations for burial 
with a cold exterior more terrible than 
any expression of woe. 

When evening came, the fair corpse lay 
in bridal robes, ready for the grave. It 
was a cold embrace for one so young to 
go to. Busy feet had all day long been 
going in and out, for the whole neighbor- 
hood had been searching for the lost Ma- 
bel’s remains, but no traces of her had 
yet been discovered, and now when the 
night was come, silence deep, unbroken, 
fell upon the desolate homestead. On the 
mountain terrace, smoke went up from the 
smouldering ruins of Edward’s home, and 
in the valley below, his fair bride lay in 
the arms of death, enough, surely, to make 
one like him, who had no belief in Provi- 
dence, exclaim; “Fate, thou hast done 
thy worst.” 

It was near midnight. The cousins 
were both watching beside the corpse. 
Gassy kneeling with her face hid in her 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 165 

hands, and Edward slowly pacing to and 
fro, when they were startled by a gush of 
music, coming up soft and sweet from the 
parlor below. Gassy sprang to her feet, 
exclaiming : “ Thank God ! That is Ma- 
bel,” and hurried down. Yes, it was really 
Mabel, seated at the piano. 

‘‘ Well,” she asked, gaily, as Gassy 
entered the room; “where is my new 
brother, now ?” 

“ O, Mabel ! Mabel ! How could you 
frighten us so? Where have you been? 

Do you not know ” she stopped 

abruptly. 

“ Know what?” Mabel asked, but before 
Gassy could answer, Edward was beside 
them, saying bitterly, “come and see your 
handiwork, Mabel Beaufort.”' 

He led her silently up to the study, for 
it was there Anastasia lay, and pointing to 
the white, cold face and the folded hands, 
bade her see there the consequences of her 
mad freak. 

Gry after cry of the wildest anguish 
burst from the poor girl’s lips. “ 0 fate ! 
0 cruel fate ! Why did I not die and 
save her ! You see, Gassy, it is all true. 


166 


THE BEAUPORTS; 


There must be a death as well as a bridal, 
and because I, poor coward, shrank from 
my doom, the inexorable fates have taken 
her. My darling ! My beautiful Asie I” 

And so she raved for hours. No one 
could soothe her. When morning came, 
she fled away, and they saw her no more 
for many days. 

When Anastasia was buried, Edward 
left the place. He could not bear to live 
there longer, he said, and so Gassy was 
left alone in the old homestead with Mrs. 
Acton and Henry, for Mabel could not be 
prevailed upon to remain more than an 
hour or two at a time. She wandered 
about the mountains, and the lonely grave 
yard in the gorge, where they had buried 
Anastasia; sometimes singing gaily, at 
others wailing as if her heart was breaking. 
Occasionally she would return home, gen- 
tle and quiet enough, but oftenest in some 
wild transport, flitted through the house, 
or played music, strange and weird as 
the wind that sighed in the forest trees. 
When her fits were at the worst, she 
gasped for the free air, and as Gassy would 
never consent to have her confined, she 


A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 167 

would ride headlong wherever she willed, 
until her strength was exhausted, and she 
would return pale and weary, to lie down 
at the foot of the altar in the church, and 
sleep peacefully as a child. It was always 
there her mad wanderings ended, always 
at the foot of the cross that reason returned. 
In one of her lucid intervals Gassy learnt 
from her that she had intentionally set fire 
to Edward’s house, intending to perish in 
the flames, but that the sight appalled her, 
and she hid in the neighboring thicket, 
little thinking that Anastasia would die 
of fright, and thus seemingly verify her 
own wild fancy. The life she now led was 
too trying a one on mind and body to last 
long, and God in his mercy soon gave her 
rest. 

After that Gassy was more lonely than 
ever, but she led a quiet life, doing all the 
good in her power, and praying constantly 
for Edward’s conversion. 

Old Mrs. Acton lingered for many 
months, and then died so gently and 
peacefully, it did not seem like death at 
all. Her grandson went into the world, 
to carve out his own destiny, and to do his 
plotted work. 


168 


THE BEAUFORTS : 


And so the years went by, Gassy grow- 
ing more lonely as she grew older, but 
still working bravely on in the sphere 
Providence had placed her. The poor 
and the sick blessed her, and the sweet 
consciousness of duty performed, rendered 
her life less lonely than many imagined it 

Late one winter evening she returned 
from a visit to the village and was sur- 
prised to see some one sitting on the front 
steps of the house. As she drew near, she 
saw it was a man scantily clothed, and 
looking thin and pinched with cold. 
Thinking it some applicant for charity, 
she kindly invited him in. He merely 
bowed his head, without speaking, and 
followed her in. Was it the sudden change 
in the atmosphere that made him feel faint 
that he trembled so, and grasped a chair 
for support? 

“ So Gassy, you do not recognize me ?” 
He spoke the words slowly. She sprang 
to his side, and then for the first time sus- ' 
pected who he was. Yes, it was Edward 
Beaufort, but so changed it was no wonder 
Gassy knew him not. He was thin and 
pale, with little of the old, haughty Beau 


A TALE OP THE ALLEGHANIES. 169 

fort look in his face, little of the cold, sneer- 
ing tone in his voice. 

Gassy conld scarce command words to 
welcome him, she was so pleased and 
astonished. “ Gassy,” he said, after sitting 
a long while silent — “ Gassy, I have been 
here all day, wandering about the place, 
bidding a last farewell to every spot once 
dear to me. I will never return again.” 

“ But why, Edward?” she asked. “ Why 
not stay?” 

He shook his head, sadly. “ I must do 
penance in sackcloth and ashes for the 
rest of my days. See, Gassy, I have 
found a treasure since we parted.” He 
held up a rosary before her, and a smile 
more beautiful than had ever before irradi- 
ated his face, now parted the wan lips. 

She asked no questions now. She knew 
he was safe, and so with but a passing 
emotion, she bade him farewell when he 
left her. They never met again on earth. 

Time passed by ; the little town grew 
into a flourishing city, changes crept over 
the face of the land, and when the ap- 
pointed hour came. Gassy too went from 
the world, peacefully as a summer day, 


170 


THE BEAUFORTS. 


leaving behind the fragrance of her vir- 
tues, like the lingering perfume of flowers. 
And thus perished the race of the Beau- 
forts in America — thus the old homestead 
passed into the hands of strangers. 


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